28 Twins
by Dinogrrl
Summary: Living With Autobots universe. A collection of stories regarding the lives and times of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.
1. Setting the Tone of Life

Author's Note: These are side-stories to Living With Autobots; it is recommended to read that story but shouldn't be necessary to understand 28 Twins. These stories are regarding to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but include many other characters, both from canon and of my own invention. These are on the short side-I even have some drabbles in here-and range from silly to serious, G to R. They are presented in chronological order, but exactly when these events take place in relation to LWA, I won't say, as it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

I am not following a formal set of 28 prompts, but rather, prompts friends gave me.

* * *

Prompt: Childhood

* * *

They were not fully-formed yet. They would hardly qualify as self-aware, only barely as alive. But still, they knew that they were content, and so they slept.

* * *

Griffon slowly ambled down the row of hatchling pods, ignoring those that were just now beginning to grow or were not even active for this creation cycle. Following him, scrambling upside-down on the ceiling, was a tiny, multi-limbed mech, one of the pod-tenders.

"You are not required here!" the tiny mech chattered angrily. "You are not a tender, you are not needed yet! Hatchlings are still growing, not your time yet!"

"I'm not in anyone's way," Griffon replied without looking up. "I am simply here for a visit." _'Damn tenders, thinking they own the place.'_

The ceiling-crawler hissed. "Hatchlings do not need visits! They know nothing outside of their pods! You are wasting your time!"

This time, Griffon glared up at him. "Go away before I report you to the overseer."

The tender blinked a few times, then scurried away, muttering insults the whole way. Griffon sighed and continued on his way until he stood before one of the active pods. He could just make out the faintest form within, floating peacefully within its cushioning fluids.

"Hello there," Griffon said softly. There was, of course, no response from the pod. "I have been assigned as your youngling-master. We're going to be spending much time together..."

* * *

They were curled tightly together, as they liked. It was a comfortable position. But they were bigger now than they had once been, and there seemed to be less space to share, even when curled up together.

Sometimes, they did not want to share that space, and they would strech out in irritation.

But soon enough, they would curl up again and sleep.

* * *

The pods were covered with a thin but tough membrane, tough enough that hatchlings were not strong enough to break it. Griffon was glad for that, as the occupant of his assigned pod was proving to be a most active individual.

"Yes now," he crooned to the pod as he gently set his hands on either side of it. The hatchling wriggled inside. "I do believe you are ready to come out." He flicked his wrist, extending the small, slim blade tucked within his arm. With a deft motion, he cleanly sliced through the pod's stem, freeing the pouch from its connection to the Allspark. Carefully, he lowered the precious object to the floor and crouched in front of it. Retracting the blade so as to not accidentally injure his charge, he pulled open the pod's membrane.

"Welcome to life, little one."

He dipped his hands into the green fluid within, scooping its precious cargo out with his long fingers. Lifting his hands, he allowed the fluid to drain away from the hatchling.

His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Primus help me."

In his hands, curled up in sleep the way hatchlings did, was not one, but two tiny new lives.

"Primus help me," he repeated, almost not comprehending what he was seeing. "Twins. They're twins."

* * *

They were able to fully stretch out now. That felt good. They were no longer floating, though, and that was a bit disconcerting.

One was the first to express that discomfort in the form of a loud squeak. The noise startled both of them, and the other made known his surprise with a similarly loud squeak.

This of course was even more frightening to them. Never before had noises been so loud! Never before had noises come from _them_! The first one thrashed about in distress until he found himself touching the other once more. This was very reassuring, and they both settled once more.

* * *

Griffon sagged back into his chair. These two were going to be a handful. For most of their first cycle of existence, they had slept, but when they were awake...Primus. They had discovered they could make noise and were practicing that ability at every opportunity. They were also figuring out how to unfold their spindly limbs from their hatchling shells. It would only be a matter of time before they worked out how to use those limbs to move themselves where they wanted. And that, Griffon knew, meant the end of his sanity.

His computer screen blipped. Immediately he sat up, tapping a corner of the screen. "Yes?"

"Advisor Ratchet wishes to speak with you," said a voice from the computer's comm.

"Of course. Put him through."

The screen flickered, then the holoprojector at its bottom came to life. The face of the Advisor sprang up in front of Griffon. "I hear you have most important news for me, youngling-master?"

Griffon nodded. "I..." He felt simultaneously terrified and giddy. "Sir...my latest...sir, we have a case of twinning."

Ratchet was silent, his faceplates unreadable. "Twins, you say?" he stated after a while.

"Yes sir. They came online about a half-cycle ago."

"You are not lying to me, are you? You know how rare twins are. I mean, for Primus' sake, there's only ever been two reported cases and both of those were before _my_ time."

"No sir, not lying! I reaching into the pod and...there they both were." Griffon stared at his hands, reliving the moment.

Again Ratchet was silent. "How are they doing?"

"As well as any other hatchlings."

"Mechs or femmes?"

"Mechs."

"Hmm...class and type?"

"4-Betas."

That caught the Advisor's attention. "4-Betas? Really?"

Griffin nodded again. "Ironic, I know."

"Youngling-master, take care that no one outside of your youth complex knows of them, and only those that need to know within the complex know." Ratchet's voice had suddenly taken on a most urgent tone.

"Of course."

"I will be there as soon as I am able. I will contact you when I am on my way."

* * *

One was the first to see. He opened his round hatchling optics to a strange non-fluid world. Everywhere he peered, things were big and strange and new. He chittered to himself in wonderment. Unfolding one of his new-found arms, he pushed on the table until he rolled himself onto his front side. Things were more interesting from this angle! He unfolded his other limbs and started slowly scooting himself forward. This was a new and fun way to move!

His actions woke the other, who wondered what the fuss was about. From his brother, he learned about _seeing_. Carefully, he too opened his optics. Things were different indeed. But he couldn't feel the first by his side any more, so he squealed. The first tried to comfort him by telling him about _moving_, but that was just too new and different for the other. He was not ready for that, so he squealed louder. If he squealed loud enough for long enough, the first would return to him.

* * *

The tender had waited until he was sure the twins would survive. If their constant noise was anything to go by, they were most certainly surviving, and then some. So the tender scurried to his quarters and activated a little-used comm device hidden in the walls.

He was forced to wait several breems before the call was answered. "I told you not to use this comm unless you were prepared to give up your position as a tender," a low voice said through the comm.

"For this? Oh yes, oh yes." The tender drummed his multiple legs against the floor.

"Well? Spit it out already."

"There are twins, Flame. Twins! Mechs! 4-betas! They came online yesterday, they are most active and healthy!"

"Yeeess..." He could hear the dark grin in Flame's voice. "Yes. You were right to inform me. They will work perfectly."

* * *

Griffon knew something was wrong when the twins didn't wake him with their squealing. Panic immediately set in. He scrambled from his berth, charging down the hallway as his mind raced with all the horrible things that could have happened to his precious charges. There was any number of problems hatchlings could experience between the time they came online and when they entered their sparkling stage. He could not afford to lose his hatchlings, his precious twins.

The one scenario he didn't imagine was the one he found himself confronted with. The twins' room in the med ward was empty.

Griffon stormed into the on-duty medic's office. "Where are they?"

The medic looked up, startled. "Who?"

"My hatchlings!"

"They're in their room."

"No they're not!"

The medic only stared.

"Who has access to the room?"

"You, me, the chief medic, and the tender."

_The tender._

* * *

One looked about, confused. He didn't recognize this place. The other didn't recognize it either, though he chose to curl himself up into his hatchling shell as tightly as possible in an attempt to block it out, rather than try to make sense of it.

Strange mechs. Strange sights. No comfortable things to lay on. This didn't seem right.

The first chirred softly in worry. The other replied with a similar chirr, though it was muffled by his shell. Things would be okay, he told the first, although he seemed to be trying to convince himself more than his brother. They had each other, like they always had.

This was true, the first agreed. He also curled himself into his shell, but not before wriggling himself closer to snuggle with his brother. Things would be okay.


	2. Playthings

Prompt: Playthings 

* * *

To say Flame was unhappy as he stepped off of the shuttle's boarding ramp would be incorrect. To say he was angry as he entered his hidden laboratory facilities would be an understatement. To say he was utterly irate as his assistant approached him would be getting closer to the truth.

Scalpel nonetheless sidled up to his superior, then clambered up the wall nearby to offer him a datapad. "Welcome back, Flame." When the scientist didn't acknowledge the greeting, the spindly mech continued. "Readings from the initial examinations."

Flame accepted the datapad without breaking stride and glanced idly at its screen. "They had better be good enough to justify all the slag I just had to go through."

"Oh yes," the assistant said. "These subjects are showing great promise for our spark merging and separation problem."

"And the physical merging?"

"Unknown," Scalpel chittered. "We were unable to perform even a basic experiment. They are much too young and-"

"And any drone with half a processor would have known better than to steal _hatchlings_." The smaller assistant was suddenly yanked off the wall by a strong hand that had clamped around his head. Flame's optics flashed dangerously. "You were instructed only to find suitable subjects, report them to me, and monitor them until they were ready. _You_ so kindly decided to start things here without my input. Megatron has other projects that are timed with ours, and now that they've also been started, they cannot wait thirty vorns for our subjects to grow up." The scientist snarled in his assistant's face. "Because you don't understand the simple concept of waiting, I now have the Lord High Protector digging his claws into _my_ chassis!"

Scalpel's legs flailed. "We can...find other mechs! Adults...to work on the physical gestalt aspects."

"Sure we can," Flame sneered. "It's not like finding more subjects won't possibly put us in a position to be tracked down by the authorities the way your heist of three-cycle-old hatchlings did."

"I will...be careful..."

"Yes, you will."

The tiny assistant nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Then stop wasting my time and go find some mechs." Flame angrily tossed the smaller mech aside. He started down the hallway once more, not waiting to see if Scalpel was obeying him, or even still in one piece.

The scientist stalked the rest of the way down the empty hallways to his destination, one of the small side rooms. He opened the door; two tiny pairs of blue optics blinked against the light that had suddenly entered their realm. Flame looked down at his new subjects and slowly, a dark grin spread across his face. "Hello there, my little pets. We're going to have so much fun together."


	3. Free in My Mind

Prompt: Freedom

* * *

There was never much light in the room, but they didn't need light, not even the soft glow of optics, though it was a welcome reassurance. As long as they could feel one another, the darkness wasn't a problem.

Room C15 Gamma. Contains subjects X3R-550tarn1 and X3R-550tarn2, aged 4 vorns, twinned brothers. Test 3 underway. That's what they had said this time.

The words didn't mean anything to him, but still they echoed in his processor. He knew X3R-550tarn1-that referred to him. It meant nothing as far as he knew, just sounds; as soon as he recognized its lack of significance, he had given himself another name, a series of sounds that would have approximated to 'he sideswipes' in standard Cybertronian. But he did not speak standard Cybertronian, and thus was unaware of this translation.

His brother didn't speak at all.

Sideswipe sat on one end of the berth, unable to slip into recharge due to his twin's constant bond-pulses. The sensation that crept across their bond was one he was no stranger to, but it still unnerved him for reasons he couldn't quite name. Sluggishness, numbness, an inability to react to his surroundings, even his own brother. Not caring.

Every so often, Sideswipe would run his hand over his brother's smooth helm, though the other youngling never reacted, not even moving his optics in response. Just stayed curled up in the middle of the berth like he had so often done as long as he could remember.

The word Sideswipe said then sounded more like a momentary malfuntion of his vents than an actual word. He nudged his brother when he didn't get a response. _You all right?_

This time, there was the slightest stirring of acknowledgment from his twin's side of the bond, as if he was trying to remember how to reply.

Sideswipe leaned back against the wall again, closing his optics, desperately trying to recharge. He didn't know what happened to his brother to upset him so badly that his own recharge cycle was interrupted, but it was very annoying. When he once again was denied blissful sleep, he shifted his legs to a more comfortable position. _You want me to tell a story?_ He liked telling stories.

His brother remained curled up in his little ball, not even acknowledging Sideswipe's question.

_I dreamed I saw the outside. Beyond the walls. There were so many stars in the sky, more than we can see through the windows._

_ I saw the sun. The buildings kept hiding it though, so sometimes all I could see were streaks of light. It was pretty, not like the lights in here._ He glanced down at his brother, softly running a hand over the gold youngling-armor that covered his shoulders. _It was shiny, like you. There were cyberhawks and turbofoxes and floatfish, all in the sunlight, and they were more wonderful than anything...it was the whole world, and this place and everyone in it couldn't reach us..._

His brother stirred then, only the slightest of movements, but accompanied by a faint nudge through their bond that Sideswipe knew translated to _You suck at making up stories, shut up you idiot._

_ But I wasn't finished,_ was Sideswipe's reply as he returned to absent-mindedly stroking his brother's helm. _My story is about what we've decided to call you, because you need a name too._

_ X3R-550tarn2._

_ No. Like streaks of the sun. Because that's what it was like in my dream._ It was definite, no room for more questioning.

His brother was silent. Sideswipe could feel his twin's exhausted systems begin to shut down at long last, putting him into that odd recharging but awake-and-groggy state that was so common for him.

_You want me to tell a story?_

There was a very sleepy, muddled affirmative from the newly-dubbed Sunstreaker.

_I had a dream..._


	4. New Case

Author's Note: What follows is a selection of records from Esker, one of Ratchet's employees. 

* * *

Prompt: Shut out 

* * *

Pits be damned. I thought I had seen everything, but Ratchet just has that way of finding even stranger and worse things.

When that bastard Flame evaded capture all those vorns ago, we all thought he had died in the Acid Wastes. Oh, we were so wrong.

We all assumed the twins who were sparked in Tarn eleven vorns ago had died after being taken from the youth complex.

How in Primus' name does Ratchet expect me to make this all better? 

* * *

This is going to be so much harder than anything I've ever done. They can't even speak. 

* * *

Primus help me, now that he's not under chemical influences any more, he's a regular little glitch-mouse. He hasn't gone for any more wanderings at night, not since the air vent incident, but he is bound and determined to cause trouble. Last night he somehow activated the controls on his berth and managed to get it pushed up as high as it would go, and not even he, reckless as he is, dared to make a jump down from that height.

The upside of this is that when I came to help the little glitch down, I actually heard his brother make a noise that wasn't his terrified sparkling-screaming. I'm pretty sure he was growling, but I'm not sure if it was at me or his brother. 

* * *

Today has been a good day, by their standards. Maybe he'll actually talk to me.

"What is your designation?" He hasn't quite yet grasped that 'name' is just a different version of 'designation'.

There he goes giving me that confused look again. ~X3R-550...~

He's recited this string of numbers and letters before; I can only assume this was the subject number Flame assigned to him. This is not what I want. "I know. You've told me that before. What do you call _yourself_?"

~...X...3R-550 ta-~

"No." Primus, he's starting to ignore me now. "What do you call yourself...when there's nobody around? Just yourself and your brother?"

Good, he's not completely gone yet. That look of confusion is the one he gets when he's trying to figure out what I've said. And _that_ look...that look I've only seen on his brother (when he feels like showing any emotion at all, that is). It's offense if I've ever seen it. So, his name is rather personal and important. I was about to write this topic off as a loss when a few moments later, he's on my comm system, asking in his youngling way to let him show me something. It's what any youngling does when his command of a spoken language fails him, so I allow him to do so.

::TRANSMISSION RECEIVED::

"Oh...Sideswipe? Is that what you call yourself?"

He of course has no idea if this is correct or not, so he just makes a soft 'mrr' noise and goes back to playing with the levi-hawk.

"What do you call your brother?"

He's able to figure out that one without too much trouble. He grins deviously, at some humor I haven't yet been privy to.

::TRANSMISSION RECEIVED::

_ 'Annoying!'_


	5. Dreaming

Prompt: Dreaming 

* * *

Sunstreaker was just like any other Cybertronian when it came to the ability to dream: he didn't have it. Sure, there was the ever-so-small percentage of the Cybertronian population that claimed to experience dreams the way organic species did, but Sunstreaker was not a member of that exclusive group. He was rather glad he wasn't. Once he put himself into recharge, that's where he liked to stay until he woke up, if his brother didn't wake him first. Sideswipe was one of those mechs who came out of recharge earlier than most and made sure to be as utterly annoying as possible about it to everyone around him, especially his brother.

Those times his brother actually let him recharge in peace, it was a pleasant, quiet, and dreamless experience for Sunstreaker. At some point during this night, however, he came to the vague realization that his mind was whirling with muddled thoughts, even though everything indicated he was still running only those programs needed during a recharge cycle. But it felt nice, so it didn't occur to him that something might be wrong. Nice indeed...

There were no visuals accompanying the sensations. That's what first struck him as odd. Didn't they say organics saw things when they dreamed? Wasn't that supposed to be the biggest part of dreaming?

Then again, it did feel nice. Nice like nothing he had felt before. He continued to ignore the overall odd nature of this experience in favor of the dream. He rather liked this dream, or whatever it was.

But why was this happening? Knowing his kind of luck, if he did dream, it definitely wouldn't be anything good like this. He didn't want it to end, but something was seeming more and more off to him as it continued. It wasn't right. Like...dreaming through a fog. It reminded him of something. What was it?

That's right. It reminded him of when his spark resonated perfectly with his brother's. One of the many joys of twinhood, that was. Visions and memories and feelings that weren't his would suddenly implant themselves in his central processor. He'd exhibit personality quirks that were unique to his brother. The lines between individual and whole would become so blurred that he often gave up trying to figure out where exactly he ended and his brother began and let their sparks sort it out on their own. It was a strange thing to go through, feeling so right and yet so strange, but not knowing which was the reality.

Now that he thought about it, that distant, fuzzy, maybe-it's-real, maybe-it's-not quality to this nice-feeling dream was certainly very similar to those instances...

_Sideswipe._

All at once he snapped fully online and awake. He was initially confused when he found that he had his claw-tipped fingers buried in the more sensitive areas of his plating, resting against particularly tender internal components. A confusing thing because this was nothing he'd ever done before nor something he had any real desire to try. So why the frag did he wake up like this?

After a short bit of pondering, he made the connection between his current situation and his earlier thoughts, and with that realization came anger. _'Sideswipe! That...that fragger...'_ He quickly, but carefully, withdrew his claws, not wanting to even think about the kind of pain he'd be in if he cut something in _those_ places, pointedly ignoring the small flares of pleasure the motion triggered. _'Woke me up...because...because he...'_

Rolling onto his back, Sunstreaker bunched up his legs and landed a vicious kick on the bottom of the berth above his, taloned feet connecting solidly with the metal surface, causing the bunk to shudder visibly.

The immediate response was a yelp from the young mech who occupied said bunk.

"What in the fragging Pits is your problem, Sideswipe?!" Sunstreaker shouted up to his twin, beyond caring that no one in their right mind went around shouting at this time of the night.

Sideswipe didn't answer for a moment. "Bro..." He sounded like he had gotten into the high-grade again. "You have got to try this."

Snarling, the gold mech slammed another kick into his twin's berth. "_No!_ Go find somewhere else to get yourself off! I swear to Primus, if you _ever_ wake me like this again, I will tear your fragging arms off!"

After recovering from that attack on his bed, Sideswipe shifted around until his head and shoulders hung down over the edge of the berth. He gave his brother a most ridiculously pleased grin from this upside-down stance.

Sunstreaker frowned in disgust. "Go away."

"You really should."

The kick was aimed at Sideswipe's head this time. 

* * *

When Esker saw them that morning, she immediately knew something was wrong. They were sitting at opposite sides of the room, Sideswipe sulking in his chair, Sunstreaker with his arms crossed over his chest and face set in a dark scowl. Esker refrained from sighing in exasperation. If there was one thing harder than working with these two, it was working with them when they wanted nothing to do with one another.

"What now?" she asked tiredly.

Neither answered nor even gave an indication that they had heard her.

Swearing inwardly-this was going to be a _long_ cycle-she quickly made her way to Sideswipe, who was the closer of the two. She set her datapad on the table in front of him as she steeled herself to once more attempt to mediate between two cranky mechs who were considerably stronger than herself. "Sideswipe, what..." She blinked in surprise as she looked down at him. "What happened?" she said, her tone markedly less harsh than before. Immediately she half-sat on the edge of the table, grabbing one of the horns on Sideswipe's helm and turning his head so she could see his helm under better light. The red mech complained softly but offered her no resistance as she examined the sharp-edged grooves that marked his head from just above his optics to just in front of his horns.

Esker leveled a glare at Sunstreaker, only to find that he had turned his back to her. "Sunstreaker."

"He started it," was the grumbled response.

"I swear..." She looked over the claw-marks on Sideswipe's head again. They weren't severe enough to require an emergency trip to the med wing, but they were nothing that would heal well without a medic's influence. "Just one orn. _One orn_ without you two sending each other to the medics. At least tell me you have a good excuse this time."

Sunstreaker growled then.

Sideswipe's mouth twitched into the barest of smiles.

Esker glanced between them. This was new. Usually they were more than willing to supply the reasoning behind their more violent behaviors, even if just to annoy one another further. "Sunstreaker?"

"Ask _him_."

She looked down at Sideswipe. He merely gave that small grin again. "He's the one who kicked me. Ask _him_ what his big problem is."

That was when Esker began to get the feeling that maybe, just this once, it would be better not to know.


	6. Glyphs

Prompt: How old were they when they got their first glyph and who got one first? 

* * *

Though it had initially been Sideswipe's idea, like always Sunstreaker ended up doing most of the work because, though he would never admit it, Sideswipe scared himself with his ideas and could never find the courage to do them until his brother backed him.

Under normal circumstances, fully-upgraded mechs would never have to ask permission for something like this. But they were not under normal circumstances. Not for six more orns, anyway. No, Sideswipe couldn't just wait six orns. It had to be now. Always now.

Sunstreaker hated that out of all the things they shared, restraint and responsibility were not among them.

But he had to admit that he wanted it, too. So he had asked Esker, because Sideswipe had been too afraid to, and she had allowed them to do this. They could have skipped asking her altogether and snuck out of the facility to find an off-site medic, but that would have landed them in deeper trouble than even Sideswipe wanted to deal with. Not that Sunstreaker liked wandering less familiar parts of the city to begin with. Bad things happened when he did that.

Sunstreaker was pondering these things as he lay with his back against the cool medbay table. Pondering his life, his brother, what this thing was going to do to his own undeniably good looks, when suddenly the burning, slicing pain of a laser scalpel stabbed into his right cheek-piece, just behind and below his optic.

Pain was nothing new to him. But this, this willing subjugation to suffering, to altering his very appearance, all at once struck him in its full magnitude, and he sent an involuntary shudder through through their bond.

Sideswipe immediately returned with a gentle questioning, then an assurance that things would be all right.

The gold mech's reply was a barrage of anger and pain, which Sideswipe took with surprising grace.

Forever, the pain, the cutting into his armor just enough to damage the sensitive circuits in the layers beneath. Then, nothing but residual aching and burning.

Sunstreaker was sitting up before the medic had a chance to step away. He drew one knee to his chest as he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. No energon or lubricant was leaking from the wound, but that didn't mean it was without pain.

_A scratch on my armor,_ his mind said. He continued rubbing at it. _Need to find hi-con. Must fix this._

A hand clasped his upper arm. Sunstreaker looked up in surprise, his optics locking with his brother's. Sideswipe's face plates were set in an oddly solemn expression that was a rare thing indeed with the red mech. It still came as a shock to Sunstreaker, to see his brother's pale face like that, smooth angular features framed by the stark black armor of his horned helm, so unlike the childish face that had greeted him every day since their creation. It was the face of a mech, who now bore a single sharp-edged glyph just behind and below his right optic.

It was beginning to sink in. They had made it. They had survived. Against all hope, they had lived and they would make their way in the world like any other mechs, as if their past had never happened.

Sideswipe gave him a little shake, noticing how deep his brother was in his thoughts. "Stop messing with it or you'll dull the edges." He flashed his brother a mischievous grin, and Sunstreaker knew that it was still Sideswipe in there, still the same youngling, just wearing the guise of a 4-Beta mech.

Sunstreaker brushed his brother's claws from his arm. Carefully, though, so as not to end up scratching his own armor. But he still rubbed at the glyph again. It burned, fraggit.

Sideswipe tugged his hand away. "Seriously, Sunny. Stop it."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sunstreaker said.

"I'll tell you what to do if it'll keep you from messing up the damn thing and complaining about it for the rest of eternity." The red mech scowled.

"You two done yet?" The light-hearted question came from somewhere behind Sideswipe. Both mechs looked for the source of the inquiry, finding Esker walking towards them, face set in her usual expression that bordered between amusement and mock disapproval.

Instinctively, Sunstreaker raised his hand to worry at the fresh glyph on his face, therefore obscuring it from Esker's view.

"You put up surprisingly little fuss for this," she said, laying a hand on Sideswipe's shoulder, between the spines that curved up from his armor.

"It was my idea," the red mech stated. "Why would I make a fuss about it?"

"Wasn't talking to you." Esker gave his helm a friendly flick before stepping closer to Sunstreaker. "Let me see."

She always did that. Whenever he had embarrassing scratches or dents in his armor, she always wanted to see them. Yet somehow, he couldn't offer resistance when she asked. Cautiously, Sunstreaker lowered his hand. Esker hooked a finger under his chin, lifting and turning his head so she could see the glyph. After a moment of consideration, she smiled. "It suits you."

She always did that. Whenever he had embarassing scratches or dents, she always made it seem so trivial.

Esker released Sunstreaker so she could regard both brothers. She was silent for a while. It wasn't like her. It made Sunstreaker nervous. "You barely came to my knees when you first arrived here," Esker said. She chuckled softly. "I barely come to your shoulders now. Don't know how I've put up with you two hellions for that long."

Sideswipe smiled that innocent smile of his. "It's because I'm irresistibly charming and handsome, and Sunny's, well...I dunno. Guess he can't be all that bad-looking."

This earned Sideswipe a hard smack to his head from a hand armed with fiercely sharp golden claws. "He earned it," Sunstreaker muttered in his defense as his brother gave him a glare.

"All right, you two," Esker interjected before Sideswipe could retaliate; she knew perfectly well how quickly friendly jibes between the twins could turn into a destructive wrestling match. She motioned for them to get off the medbay table, herding them out of the room, completely unafraid of her proximity to the two much larger and much more unpredictable mechs. "We're heading into Kolkular in about twenty breems. Get yourselves some energon between now and then. Sunstreaker, your brother's right, stop messing with the glyph!"


	7. Catapult

Prompt: Catapult 

* * *

The trip had not been long, but Sideswipe still found himself stumbling down the shuttle's ramp, as if he were overcome with exhaustion. Huffing softly, he shuttered his optics, trying to calm himself-or rather, trying to ignore the anxiety coming from his twin through their bond.

_'For Primus' sake,'_ he thought, _'you promised me you wouldn't do this. It's just the Second Moon. It's not like I'm on the other side of the slagging galaxy.'_

"_Are you nervous, Changer?_" The question, odd in language and voice, jerked Sideswipe out of his thoughts.

"No, it's my brother-"

A soft clicking cut him off. "_In Skuxx._"

"But-"

"_You are here to complete your learnings. Now learn._"

Sideswipe fought to subdue the growl that threatened to escape his vocalizer. Being bossed around was not something he particularly enjoyed. "Sunstreaker," he said, carefully slipping into Skuxx, "is not taking my trip well."

His tutor simply nodded. "Your care for one another is admirable." The elderly Skuxxoid continued his shuffling walk across the landing pad.

"Can't say I'm much more fond of this trip than he is," Sideswipe muttered, following the offworlder.

"You would prefer a trip out of the system with the Torkuli or Quintessons?"

"No," Sideswipe replied shortly.

The Skuxxoid glanced back at him, in what Sideswipe was learning was an expression of disapproval.

The young mech ground his jaw plates together, settling himself to speak more evenly. "No, Master Hisao." He hoped he had gotten that correct. Skuxxoid honorifics were bothersome for him to figure out, what with having to know where he stood in Skuxxoid society and how much honor the individual he was addressing had and when exactly to use the honorifics and Primus, was it 'master' or 'teacher'? The two words were so fragging similar in Skuxx.

"My familiar name is pronounced-"

"I know," Sideswipe said. "I can't say it."

"Neither can my kind say yours."

"So I've noticed."

The doors to the Skuxxoid Embassy slid open as they approached. The interior of the sprawling building was familiar to Sideswipe's Cybertronian upbringing: smooth metal flooring, sparse furnishings, high ceilings...all of course decorated with Skuxxoid motifs, but those were only to be expected. The few Skuxxoid in the room, slender-bodied mechs-_males_, Sideswipe reminded himself-turned their faces to the newcomers, briefly ducked their tapered muzzles in respect to Hisao, and returned to their conversations.

Sideswipe suddenly felt very out of place. Never before had he been the sole Cybertronian in a group of offworlders. He made sure to stay close to Hisao.

They did not stop to speak with the other Skuxxoid. Instead, Hisao shuffled to one of the side doors, one that was shaped to Skuxxoid standards rather than Cybertronian ones. _'Living quarters,'_ Sideswipe concluded as he eyed it suspiciously. "Why are we going in there?"

Hisao flicked his tail once, aggravated at Sideswipe's continued failure to address him properly, and pressed his hand against the entry pad. "You will learn more here than elsewhere." The door opened, revealing a large area so utterly different from the previous room that Sideswipe's armor bristled. There was no metal floor here. It had been removed and the ground beneath had been, what did they call it, _terraformed_ to resemble the marshy surface of Skuk. Even the air was heavy with moisture, making the Cybertronian's vents stutter for a moment.

Thrumming happily, the old Skuxxoid strode into the large room. "Does a little dirt scare you?"

Sideswipe was silent for quite a while. _'You would have been decapitated just now if Sunny were here instead of me.'_ But he was not Sunstreaker, and his sense of vanity was not quite so pronounced. Hesitantly, he lifted his foot and slowly, slowly set it down on the soil-covered ground. His claws sank into it. He shuddered.

"Teacher! Teacher!" The chorus of high-pitched voices startled Sideswipe. Looking up from his now-dirtied foot, he saw a group of quite small Skuxxoid jump out from the foliage growing in the room. They stopped a respectable distance from the elder Hisao, clasping their hands together and arching their tails in a pose Sideswipe knew was that of younglings asking to approach an adult.

Hisao bent his head down to greet the youngsters. "Greetings, honorable young." The children giggled in delight. Sideswipe shifted uncomfortably.

One of the young Skuxxoid broke away from his friends, bounding for Sideswipe in a four-legged leap. The mech backed up, feeling his primal programming threaten to activate. Thankfully, the child stopped far enough away that he was able to push his instincts down. "Are you Teacher's friend, honored Changer?"

Sideswipe found that his memory had suddenly been wiped clean of any knowledge of how to speak Skuxx.

The rest of the young had noticed him now and came running to their friend's side. The lot of them sat in a row in front of the Cybertronian, staring up at him with big eyes. "No, it's Teacher's Changer-student!" one said.

"There's never been a Changer here before."

"Maybe it'll change for us!"

"Change! Change!"

"Is it male or female?"

"I wonder if it can fly like other Changers."

"I wonder if it has a silly name like other Changers," one child whispered to her friends, which made them giggle.

That snapped Sideswipe out of his bewilderment. He narrowed his optics dangerously. "I'm a _mech_," he said shortly, falling into a Skuxx-Cybertronian hybrid that was easier for him to speak. "I can't fly, I'm not going to _transform_ for your entertainment and my name is _Sideswipe_!"

The young Skuxxoid digested this information silently. Then...

"She talks funny!" This set them all to laughing again.

Sideswipe felt his shoulder-spines twitch.

"_Hs...Ht...Ht-aiwook...aiwlk..._"

The mech cringed at the child's attempts at mutilating his name. "For Primus' sake. _Sideswipe._" This time, he used the Skuxx translation of his name.

The children were squealing with laughter. "She _does_ have a silly name!"

_'That's it.'_ He could hear Hisao calling for the youngsters to speak respectfully to strangers, but he didn't care. Sideswipe lifted his foot, mock-threatening to step on the creatures that barely came up to his knees. The children squeaked and turned tail, dropping onto all fours to scurry through the underbrush. Sideswipe's foot came down on empty space, crunching down on fallen sticks and dark soil.

The far end of the sticks rose up, protesting the huge weight suddenly placed upon them. They caught one of the fleeing Skuxxoid younglings, who was sent flying through the air in a smooth arc. He flailed as he soared, elongated body writhing, his little self squealing the whole way. Eventually, he disappeared behind a far row of foliage. Shortly after came the tell-tale sound of something falling into a deep body of water.

_'Frag! I've been here all of five breems and I've just sent a youngling to his drowning death!'_ Panicked, Sideswipe moved to rescue the child, but found himself restrained by a scaled hand on his shoulder.

"Just because your kind cannot swim does not mean other kinds cannot," Hisao said in a low voice laced with faint laughter.

As if on cue, the formerly flying child came running to them, his body dripping water. He beamed up at Sideswipe as he hopped about in a strange dance of delight. "Again! Again!" he gleefully chirped. His giddy cries summoned the other young, and soon Sideswipe found himself once again surrounded by tiny organics.

Hisao patted the mech's red-armored shoulder. "I'll see you in a few _tiks_."


	8. Tools of the Trade

Prompt: Different sides 

* * *

Copper was one of the few metallic elements-few metals, period-that was not particularly common on Cybertron. To Sunstreaker, its rarity only made it that much more beautiful.

He traced a claw along drawn lines, gently etching the swirling patterns of stylized glyphs into the surface of the tile before him. Such useful things, his claws. He could ply his trade with his bare hands, where other mechs required special tools to engrave metal and stone.

Before him, the ancient texts appeared in the copper, curling delicately around embossed images of equally delicate floatfish. Glyphs intertwined with the fine spines of the tiny creatures, creating a woven pattern out of a timeless story.

Sunstreaker thought it was fitting that so rare a creature be featured on so rare a substance. 

* * *

The impact shot up his arms, painfully jolting his shoulders. He dug his fingers into the ground to stifle the urge to cry out. Golden claw tips pierced the metallic surface of the ground before Sunstreaker pulled first one leg beneath him, then the other. A few shining drops of energon splattered on the ground. He couldn't tell where it was coming from this time. He lurched to his feet, staggering. He was still exhausted from his earlier captivity-if it could be called that.

He next realized he was on his back, his chassis creaking as he was pressed against the ground once more. He kicked blindly, his feet hitting only air. Cold, strong fingers were locked around his neck, and Sunstreaker clawed at them, to no avail.

The hiss-pop of a charged blade came from his right. Then the noise came from his shoulder as the weapon was thrust into an open joint in his armor. It was left there. He did give a cry of pain this time.

Xeon leered at him, all steely grins and icy optics that held only the promise of more pain. 

* * *

Sideswipe sprawled on his front on the couch, chin resting on his crossed arms. He was being pleasantly not-annoying today, which was the only reason Sunstreaker allowed him so close to his work now.

Sunstreaker carefully positioned the copper tile on a stand before reaching for his heat gun. With practiced precision, he began running the gun over the etched designs in the tile.

A few moments of silence followed. Then Sideswipe rumbled, a soft, low sound. "And that's it?" He sounded most unimpressed.

"Wait."

Sideswipe did wait.

Slowly, the copper began to change, its color shifting, each new shade managing to captivate Sideswipe enough to keep him quiet another moment longer. Orange to blue, blue to brass, brass to red.

"I like that color," Sideswipe commented.

Sunstreaker grunted once, softly. "You would." He ran the heat over the tile a moment longer, allowing a few areas to turn purple, before sitting back to observe the entire piece. It _was_ a nice color. It would look good as a facing for the tower.

Sideswipe was grinning, he could tell. His brother was always grinning when he sent that smugly satisfied feeling through their bond. As if thinking, _'You're damn right my shade of red would look nice on the tower.'_

"Shut up," Sunstreaker said.

"But I didn't say-"

"Who's the one with the heat gun here?" 

* * *

He hated feeling trapped. Xeon knew how to trap mechs. He was good at that. Yet another reason for Sunstreaker to hate him.

The gold-armored mech was on the ground yet again, trying to pull himself far enough away from Xeon that he could get his bearings and strike back.

Xeon jumped for him. Sunstreaker lifted his leg, landing a kick on the older mech, knocking him aside. That accomplished, Sunstreaker returned to his futile scrabbling at the ground, attempting to put more distance between himself and Xeon. But his legs didn't want to cooperate, and his hands, well, Xeon had made a point of rendering those claw-tipped fingers useless as soon as possible in this fight. Releasing the curved blades in his forearms, Sunstreaker used their points to gain traction on the ground. He belly-crawled away from the monster, exhaustion preventing him from moving with any sort of speed.

He could hear Xeon get to his feet. Panic was beginning to set in. He knew that when he panicked, he couldn't think, and that was never a good position to be in. He couldn't find the strength to stand, couldn't even find the strength to turn himself onto his back so he could defend himself from Xeon.

The monster was right above him. He could sense it.

A low growl. A blur of red, gleaming almost the color of copper in the light. A loud crash from behind him. Then a shadow fell over Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe was crouched over him like a crazed beast, a warning growl rumbling through his body. 

* * *

Such useful things, his claws. He held his hands out before him, looking at them, but not really seeing them. He turned them over, as if he would find something more meaningful there.

With his claws, he had once created beautiful things. Now, he used them to take lives. He held sparks in his hands and watched them sputter and die. He was a monster.

And yet...

He lowered his hands, setting his claws against the gray armor of his fallen opponent. Slowly, he dragged their sharp golden tips across the battered metal shell. Harder he pressed. Deeper his claws went. The next thing he knew, he was looking at his hands again. And this time he didn't just look, he saw.

It was beautiful, how those beads of glowing blue energon ran along the inner curves of his gold claws, gathered at the tips, dripped back onto the mech they had come from. Such a strange form of beauty...

...and he had created it.

And he would create even better in the future.


	9. The Criminal Life

Prompt: What to do when the law is looking for your brother 

* * *

Oh, it was good to get away from Kaon for a while, even if it was to the slums of Kalis. Funny how life could bring you from the top to the bottom so quickly. One night, that was all it had taken for him to go from being a student at the university to a criminal, a murderer.

He couldn't say that he didn't enjoy some parts of it. The high-grade he was intaking now, for example. The whole 'being paid to indulge his more violent programming' deal, well, it wasn't often that a 4-Beta could find a decent avenue for fighting outside of the Imperial army. Though the army seemed to do precious little fighting these days... Oh, and at least his brother was still with him.

Or he was, usually.

Sideswipe glanced around the bar, and for not the first time in several breems, felt a shiver of nervousness run through him when he couldn't catch a glimpse of his twin's golden armor. He always worried when he didn't know exactly where his brother was. Sunstreaker wasn't known for handling public situations well on his own, especially in places as crowded as bars.

He relaxed when he finally saw his brother walking toward him, lacking that slight stomp to his steps that indicated a rising stress level, and thus a rising chance of him throwing some unfortunate mech across the room. Sunstreaker silently, almost mechanically, took the cube he offered and gripped it tightly, claw tips pressed against its surface. But he did not sit.

"What took you so long?"

"I don't need you watching me every damn moment of the cycle."

Sideswipe frowned. "Yeah, you'll be taking that back. What were you doing?"

"I was trying to avoid them," Sunstreaker said after a while, sounding disappointed, almost anxious.

And then Sideswipe saw them. Two to their right. One he could hear coming from almost directly behind them. Three coming through the door ahead of them, to their left. All bearing the insignia of Imperial law enforcement. The ones coming from the door in front of them seemed to have noticed the gladiators, as their walk became much more purposeful.

He hissed softly. "Are they idiots?"

"We need to get out of here."

He could see that the mechs were carrying energon prods, which they had charged up and now held ready. Sunstreaker's claws tightened around his cube. "Xeon's not going to be happy," Sideswipe muttered into his own cube.

The Imperials weren't hesitating. "We need to go _now_." Sunstreaker grabbed his brother's arm, giving it a strong tug.

"What? They wouldn't be so stupid as to try to arrest us on our own ground!" Sideswipe stumbled as he was yanked out of his seat.

"Not us. Just me." The gold mech was quickly making his way to the one exit the law-mechs hadn't covered. "I need you to help me shake them." Then he added, almost too softly for Sideswipe to hear, "I'm not getting taken down for _this_."

Again the chill of nervousness and fear ran through Sideswipe. "Sunstreaker," he said in a low voice. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." He punched the engage panel on the wall, and the doors slid open. "Nothing that didn't need to be done." Sunstreaker pulled his brother out into the dark, dingy street beyond.

"Then why are the Imperials after you?" He twisted his arm out of his twin's grasp.

"I-frag."

The doors hissed open again, accompanied by six pairs of metallic feet hitting the ground at a full run.

"Go."

Sideswipe stumbled as his brother shoved him toward a side-alley. "Sunny! Are you insane?"

"I'll meet you back at the Forge!" And then the gold gladiator disappeared into another alley.

_'Frag.'_ Sideswipe turned and ran. _'Idiot. Idiot, idiot...they're going to get him.'_

He could hear two of the Imperials following him.

_'Four for Sunny. Frag it.'_ Four mechs were nothing for either of the brothers to handle. It was the energon prods that would be the problem. They were painful enough on their own, but for Sunstreaker...he had nearly died thanks to those things. And he he was not one to forget such things.

Sideswipe turned down another alley, his toe-claws scratching the ground as he fought to maintain his balance. What had Sunstreaker done this time? He couldn't even begin to imagine what could grab the attention of the law that they would so brazenly risk confronting a kaonex.

A sudden pain shot through his right leg, and he collapsed, sliding to a painful stop.

As soon as he felt himself falling, he was already twisting onto his back, the blades in his forearms snapping out. In the past, such a quick shift into defense mode had been but a whispered suggestion of his instincts. Now, it was automatic. "Show yourselves!" he snarled up to the darkness.

He swung at the first Imperial who came within range. The second. With his leg numbed, it was better to defend from on the ground than to waste time trying to stand, and inevitably falling. And then another energon prod hit him, this time on his right arm. He cried out in pain, trying to shake the thing off.

"Where is he?"

Sideswipe snarled, swinging his left arm at the mech who had spoken.

"You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

_'You have no idea.'_ Twin boosters, of the so-very-legal kind, lifted from the back of his shoulders, igniting with a hiss and roar and burning cloud of blue flames. Sideswipe ground his jaws plates together as he hurtled along, away from the Imperials faster than they could react, scraping his backside along the ground. He jabbed his operational elbow into the ground, flipping himself over as the engines burned through the last of their very small fuel supply. He was on his feet within moments, his shocked leg finally regaining its strength, and took off around the corner of the next alley, away from the law-mechs.

Away from the Forge.

He would be untouchable once back among Xeon's other gladiators at the Forge, but he might risk coming across his brother on the way, and they could be trapped by the law mechs. He didn't know why his brother was running, and he didn't like it, but he liked even less the idea of his brother being caught. So away he went. 

* * *

They chased him all night and into the next day. He toyed with them, letting them get close enough to land a few blows with the prod, then he would slip away again. Letting them taste false victory, leading them on, keeping them off his brother's trail.

Until they called for backup, and someone landed a lucky blow on his neck. He had immediately fallen offline.

When he woke, he remembered thinking _'Why am I still out on the street?'_, and then a shadow fell across him. Squinting, he tried to force bleary optics to look for the source of the shadow. _'Frag, it's like a bad cube of high-grade. My head...'_ Sideswipe slowly got himself into a sitting position, the blade in his left arm halfway deployed as a warning.

The dark figure before him stood there for a while, silent. Then, "You're an idiot."

"Sunny?" Yes...now that he was paying attention to their twin-bond again, that was certainly Sunstreaker standing before him. "But...where are..."

"I told you to meet me back at the Forge." Golden claws closed around Sideswipe's arm, and he was yanked to his feet with far too much speed. He groaned as he staggered, processor spinning, his body aching from the energon prods, fatigued from the chase. He was forced to lean against his brother to simply stand, let alone actually walk.

"They could have killed you."

"What...why didn't they?"

"Xeon sent out some stingers to get them off his turf."

"Oh." Sideswipe let himself be half-dragged along the dim alleyway, content in the knowledge that his brother was all right, and he himself was still alive, and they were together once more. Yet... "Sunny, what did you do?"

There was no answer. The walked for several klicks in silence, the whole while Sideswipe growing more edgy and impatient with his brother. What could be so bad that Sunstreaker wouldn't want to talk about it? They were gladiators-criminals. There were few laws they _hadn't_ broken.

His brother remained silent. Fuming, Sideswipe resorted to their twin-bond, forcing a peek into Sunstreaker's mind so abruptly that he actually made it through. Then Sunstreaker snapped the connection closed just as quickly, and tightened his grip on his brother a little more than could be considered friendly. Sideswipe had only managed a barest look at his brother's memories, but that was enough to know that he wished he hadn't.

He really wished he hadn't.


	10. Haroonex

Prompt: Self-deception 

* * *

Ever since we first got picked up by the scouters, Sunny's said things would be all right, nobody could break us any more than we had already been broken. Turned out that Xeon got to me early, but he couldn't get my brother. Joors of being beaten with energon prods, vorns of training and fighting and butting heads with Xeon at every turn only served to frag Sunstreaker off. And when he's fragged off, nothing can stop him. My brother is unbreakable.

Unbreakable mechs fragged Xeon off.

All I could do was stand by and watch. I tried to stop Xeon in the beginning, but like I said, he got to me early. Sunny tried to guard _me_ from the fragging bastard, and Crossblades, Primus help her, protected us both from ourselves when she could. Not even she could stop Xeon from finally breaking Sunny. 

* * *

The first time it happened, it was like my spark was suddenly encased in ice. I panicked like a dumb little sparkling. Must have forced myself to shut down for a while, because next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor of the training room I had been in all cycle. Crossblades was screaming something about someone being an idiot. Xeon said it was none of her business and tried to end the conversation there, but their argument continued out of the room and I was left alone.

Something had happened to my brother, I knew that much, but when I asked him about it later he refused to talk. 

* * *

I lost count of how many times it happened after that, how many times Crossblades tried to talk Xeon out of it (whatever 'it' was), how many times I would later find Sunny in his quarters, silent and distant. I would always ask him what was going on, and he would never tell me. Finally, he got fed up with all my questions and said to remember that as long as we were together, nothing could ever break us. I believed him. 

* * *

I watched his matches when I could. But something was off about this one. It was held in a smaller arena than usual, one that was off of the school's grounds and hidden deep within the lower levels of Kaon. The walls were very thick, made to soundproof-and scan-proof-the place from anyone in the streets above. The patrons in the stands were not the typical crowd.

My spark went cold.

There was a big brute of a mech in the arena, had to be a Class 6-T or something. The way he moved was...odd. I couldn't quite name how. Then I saw my brother, and how he moved in the same odd way. I quickly realized he wasn't himself. I sent him a question through our twin-bond, but he didn't answer. All I could feel was primal rage and battlelust and murderous impulses. Whatever had happened to him, he had been stripped to his basic programming.

He was always so proud of the fact that, even if he _was_ a big load of crankiness and anti-social tendencies, he could control himself and not become lost to the 4-Beta's underlying tendencies.

Maybe that was why this time, of all the times I had watched him fight, defeat and despair nearly overwhelmed me.

If he could have sensed my emotions right then, which I doubted, he would have told me to stop being so depressing. We would be okay. Everything would be okay.

I watched as he downed his opponent. The lug was still struggling as Sunny perched himself on the giant's torso and dug his claws into the thick armor, prying it open. There was a look of such dark, beastly glee in his optics...

He tore out the spark chamber. Broke it open. Devoured the spark within. My vision reeled.

Him. My brother. He had just committed the most unspeakable act a Cybertronian could commit.

The crowd was howling in excitement. I had a sudden and violent attack of vertigo and almost fell right out of the stands. Xeon had turned my brother into a haroonex, a Pit-damned _spark-eating_ gladiator.

Afterward, Sunny locked himself in his room for a joor straight. When I tried to get his attention through our bond, he wouldn't respond. It was just like when we were younglings, when he was too weak to even think. Things had gotten better back then, though, hadn't they? They would do so again. They had to.

That's what Sunny would have said. If he hadn't been keeping me awake with that core-chilling howling of his, anyway. That's what he would have said. 

* * *

He did finally emerge from his quarters, but still wouldn't respond to me. The next several joors, all he did was get down that one cube every cycle to keep himself going and then return to his room. No training. Xeon didn't press the issue, oddly enough. That was a relief for us both.

Things were getting better, just like I had thought.

Crossblades tried talking to him, with even less luck than I had. She was worried. She knew all too well what happened to mechs who became haroonex. But that wouldn't happen to Sunny. It couldn't. He's unbreakable. 

* * *

One night, I found him lying on the floor in his room, his armor and dermal plates and energon lines strewn about the room. He looked up at me as he lay there in a pool of his own energon and begged for help.

I screamed and screamed like a sparkling, trying to summon someone, anyone, to save him, to save us both.

He _was_ unbreakable. 

* * *

He recovered eventually, and was able to walk out of the med ward, his body again in one piece, his typically grumpy attitude once more asserting itself.

Neither of us ever mentioned what had happened that night.

_What kind of brother was I almost let my twin die?_

Our lives as gladiators went back to normal. Except for a coldness that now surrounded my brother, an eerie feeling that he was always about to snap, and that when he did, someone would end up dead, someone would have their spark eaten.

I tried to make that feeling go away so I could have my old Sunny back. You can't to live with a twin you're scared of, after all. So I told him things would be all right. We were still together. Everything would work out okay.

He never replied. He didn't have to though, because _I_ knew everything would be okay. It had to be.


	11. Know Thyself

Author's Note: Drabble. 

* * *

Prompt: Protective 

* * *

"If you hurt her, I'm coming after you."

He stops in the doorway, turns slightly to look over his shoulder. He looks distant, tired, almost sad. He speaks in a low voice, though no one is around to overhear. "If you wanted her to have a gentle lover, you should have directed her to Sideswipe."

Crossblades's faceplates are frowning, but there is a silent plea in her optics. He briefly thinks how odd it is for a gladiator to care so about her slave. But then, he cares, too… "I wasn't talking just _physically_."

He turns away. "Neither was I."


	12. The Femme

Prompt: Fighting over a femme 

* * *

It was rare that they entered the mess hall more than five breems apart. Still, the others knew better than to give Sunstreaker strange looks as he sauntered in later than usual, wordlessly accepted his rations from the quartermaster Chattermark, and settled himself into a chair next to his brother. To look at the gold warrior wrong was a very bad way to start the cycle, and it was anyone's guess as to what exactly constituted 'looking at him wrong'. Better to just not look at him to begin with.

Sideswipe, though, was exempt from such things, and gave his brother a sidelong glance over the edge of his own cube, which he held up to his mouth as if he had forgotten he was supposed to take a drink from it. Sunstreaker made a show of ignoring him, and most other mechs would have bought his act if they had been looking at him. In reality, he was doing anything _but_ ignoring his brother. Their bond was alive with energy as they reaffirmed that they were in fact both still alive, that they would survive another day in the pits, and nothing would ever take them apart. This morning ritual also allowed them a quick glance into one another's current emotional state, and Sideswipe picked up on a few certain things, in no small part due to the fact that he had been specifically looking for them.

"Have fun?" The red gladiator spoke in the strange pidgin of Cybertronian he shared with his brother, assuring that no one else would know what was being discussed, had they so foolishly decided to eavesdrop on the Twins.

Sunstreaker grunted into his energon. Sideswipe had already found the answer to that question. There was no point to restating the obvious.

Sideswipe correctly deduced his brother's refusal to answer the question as an affirmative. And then, something happened that surprised Sunstreaker.

A faint twinge of jealousy crept over their sibling-bond.

He resisted the urge to whack his brother upside his black helm. Sideswipe, Master of Charm and Manipulation, He Who Could Find a Femme in the Middle of the Primus-Forsaken Acid Wastes, jealous over his escapades last night? Sunstreaker took a moment to concentrate on his energon instead of his growing irritation. No sense in beating up his brother now when he might have to do it later during training. "If you were that interested in her," he said at length, "you could've had her."

Sideswipe snorted indignantly, trying to cover that small slip of emotion he had let though to his brother. "What, and ruin your chances with her? You haven't had a femme in a long time, I thought I'd let you get this one."

Sunstreaker did give his brother a warning glare this time. "Not all mechs need to be with a femme every single night of their existence."

The red twin replied with a sly grin. "I'm not with a femme every night. Or a mech, for that matter."

He groaned, squeezing his optics shut. "Let's not get into that again." Just because he shared a spark with his brother did not mean he liked to think about what Sideswipe did when he got lonely.

"Besides," Sideswipe said briskly, changing the subject as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "I was having too much fun watching you chase Rainshadow around for the past vorn."

"I was not chasing her," Sunstreaker growled.

"Whatever. You finally got her, had a good time, let the universe celebrate, hurray my brother finally got overloaded again." He gave Sunstreaker a mock congratulatory pat on his shoulder. "'Bout damn time."

The gold mech immediately fired a warning across their bond. He was in no mood to be touched right now, and most certainly not by his brother.

"She as good as you hoped?"

Again Sunstreaker grunted in response and took a swig from his cube. No need to give details to those who weren't involved.

"Is she...?" Sideswipe suddenly sat up straight, looking back across the mess hall, optics narrowed in concentration, as if sensing something. Then he turned back to his brother. "She's still in your room," he said softly.

"Probably."

He was silent for a moment. "You...let a femme stay in your room."

"Yes."

"You let her stay there all night and you didn't kick her out before you left this morning."

Sunstreaker returned his twin's look of disbelief with his own cool gaze. "And?"

"You don't do that."

"No."

Another moment of silence. Then came another sudden, quick flare of jealousy. "You like her." The tone was shocked...hurt. "Primus, you actually _like_ her." More jealousy.

Sunstreaker pushed his chair back from the table, standing. "Finish your energon," he said in standard Cybertronian. "Training in five breems." Before his brother could offer a word of protest, Sunstreaker strode out of the mess hall, already steeling himself for another day in the Forge, and for the beating he was sure he'd receive from his brother if they trained together later that cycle.


	13. The Question

Prompt: Entertainment 

* * *

Rainshadow had long ago learned to exercise extreme caution when trying to find the answer to the Question. Some gladiators would willingly tell. Others would not, and it was those who would likely tear one of her limbs off for asking. She valued her limbs, thus the caution.

She only knew the gladiatorial life. She had come online in it, had been raised in it, and would likely live her entire life in it. She longed to know what else was out there. But few would tell her, even when she directly asked the Question.

_What was your life before they took you?_

Few entered the schools willingly. Few wanted to remember their lives before for the sadness, the longing they felt every time they thought of it. Crossblades was the only one to openly tell Rainshadow of her past. The gladiator ached for her bondmate and mechling, but there was no remedy for that ache. Her family was long dead, and her only life now was fighting.

Rainshadow had seen the pain in her owner's optics when she had spoken of her family. She never brought up the subject again.

So she had taken to asking other questions of the gladiators when she could get away with it: what do you do for yourself? What entertains you? Questions that should have given her answers, some insight into the gladiator who answered. But they rarely did. What choices did gladiators have for hobbies? The ones she knew overindulged in high-grade, or found various methods of getting themselves high, or spent their time interfacing with any willing body, or whiled away their days training for their next fight.

Sometimes, she found clues in the glyphs the gladiators had etched on their bodies. Crossblades, according to her glyphs, had been a miner. Rainshadow knew of another gladiator, Lugnut, who had once been a prison guard.

But there were those odd ones who had no such glyphs, or bore glyphs whose meanings were so obscure that they meant little to any but the one who wore them.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were some of those odd ones. They only bore Xeon's glyphs, and smaller ones she couldn't begin to guess the meaning of. And as they were much less willing to talk in general than Crossblades...it was like facing rock walls. They let no one in, and they let nothing out. Almost as if they had truly forgotten they once had other lives.

It had been her curiosity that made Rainshadow drop her guard when Sunstreaker turned his attentions to her. She so desperately wanted to know what made him tick, what he had been like _before_, that she allowed him closer than she had allowed any mech before. But even ending up in his berth had only given her a few dents in her armor for her troubles.

Yet she kept trying. _'What is he hiding?'_

At some point, she gave up figuring him out. Sunstreaker just _was_. He lived to fight. He always had, and he always would.

Still, sometimes, when she lay next to him in his quarters, he would look up at the ceiling, his optics hazy, unfocused...sad. She wanted to mourn with him, though she did not know why or what for.

She happened to glance over to his desk one morning. She squinted. Far underneath it, something was dangling from its top. It could not be seen by anyone standing, and it was far enough away that it almost wasn't visible even from her lower vantage point on the berth.

It was a mobile, she realized after a while. Something that should have been hanging outside in the light, a delicate piece of art that belonged in one of Iacon's xenogardens. She could make out little strands of copper, engraved with various designs and glyphs, metallic baubles, even what appeared to be a tiny crystal. Odds and ends that could have been picked up anywhere, but had been put together with such consideration and care, prettied up with embossing and etching and painting, that it was obvious someone with artistic skill had put it together. A rare sort of skill indeed to find on Cybertron.

Slowly, silently, she reached out her arm. She could just reach the mobile with one outstretched finger. She brushed it gently, setting it in motion.

"You made this?" she asked softly.

Sunstreaker was coming out of the washrack and didn't hear her.

"Did you make this?" she repeated. _'Is this_ you_?'_

She had seen that look on his face before. "Get out." She had heard that tone of voice before. _Get out by yourself in one piece, or I will make you get out, in several pieces._

Rainshadow looked back at him, unable to back away from the danger as her curious yearning pushed her forward. "You did this." It was no longer a question.

The growling started so low she almost couldn't hear it. She rolled off of the berth as the mech several times her size leapt for her, his claws whistling through the space she had been occupying just before.

"_Get out!_"

She shot for the door, slipping out before it had fully opened, closing it quickly. Just in time, as Sunstreaker slammed against it, shaking the wall. A few moments later, a loud crash came from within as something was thrown across the room.

Rainshadow leaned back against the door, slumping down against it as Sunstreaker howled, all rage and loss and hopelessness. All because she couldn't quell her desire for answers to the Question.


	14. Autobots

Prompt: How did they end up in the Autobots anyway? 

* * *

The revolt in Kaon was just the window of opportunity they had been looking for. The gladiator schools had allied with Megatron, and in returned he had released the fighters to flood the sector, slaughtering every Neutral and Autobot who stood in their way. The poor mechs simply stood no chance against the highly-trained warriors that constituted the highest-ranking schools in all of Cybertron.

In the mad rush of battle, nobody noticed a handful of gladiators who disappeared, slipping off into the darkness in a bid for freedom. It was quite a while before anyone realized there were two who had not run away, but had stayed behind to stand against the Decepticon gladiators, determined to make what could be their last night alive something memorable. They fought the Decepticons because they knew, they just knew in their sparks, that if Megatron won this war, they would be forced into the gladiatorial existence for the rest of their lives, and that was something they would not stand for.

As they had expected, many of the other gladiators saw their own chance to off the infamous duo, and instead of following Megatron into battle, they used the chaos of war to attempt to extract revenge on the brothers. What they didn't count on was the pair's utter conviction of their actions, and the untold ferocity that allowed them to possess.

What the patrons would have payed to see a fight like this one.

Truth be told, the gold brother had never expected to live through the ordeal. He fought for so long that he lost track of time, not that he had a good sense of time to begin with, and everything became a blur of battle cries and weapons fire and claws tearing into armor and the spray of fluids against his chassis. Then he slowly became aware of the silence of the sector, the kind of silence that only existed when the dead littered the ground beneath your feet. He became aware that he was aware of the silence, and aware that his awareness meant he was alive. He still didn't want to believe it, even as he stood there and saw that no one was moving. Finally, reality caught up with him, and with it the acceptance that he was alive and alone.

He folded his cannon back into his arm so he could balance himself against a world that seemed to be shifting far too quickly for him to handle. He took a step forward, staggered as pain shot up his left side, kept moving though every step brought fresh agony. Pain rarely stopped him. It was his nature and training to ignore it until the appropriate time. When the appropriate time came, though, Primus help whoever happened to be in his vicinity.

Some time later, he became aware of another presence. _Not brother _was all he could figure out. He inched towards it, silent despite his injuries, invisible in the darkness despite his golden armor. There. An Autobot. One. Black and white armor, hard to see in the shadows. The Autobot was looking around, probably for survivors. Waiting. Waiting for what, he didn't know.

Autobots had medics.

With that knowledge in mind, he stopped a good twenty paces away from the Autobot and stood to his full height, activating his cannon, drawing it level with the Autobot's chest.

The Autobot froze, turning his head to the source of the noise, blue optics briefly flaring white with shock. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to be shot on sight, he raised his hands slightly in a placating gesture. "What do you want?"

"You...are an Autobot." He found it hard to speak. Why?

"Yes."

"You have a medic?"

"He's on his way."

"Good," the gladiator growled. He lowered his cannon slightly, not because he didn't need the threat of it any longer, but because he suddenly found his arm lacked the strength to keep it up. "You will help me find my brother."

The Autobot looked dubious about this proposition.

He snarled, raising his cannon once more, though the motion brought new waves of pain. "You're not going anywhere until my brother is found. Get moving." His mind was swimming. Things were starting to lack meaning to him.

"What does he look like?" The question was spoken cautiously, as if the Autobot still doubted this whole brother thing.

The golden mech was irritated to realize that it took him a few moments to figure out what the Autobot had said. "Like me," was all he could manage before he felt some part of his central processor shut down. He was dangerously low on energy now, and for some reason it was always his language core that turned off first in the series of last-ditch attempts by his body to save itself. He hated it. He hated being unable to communicate, he hated being so weak, he hated that he didn't know where his brother was...he just hated it all.

He turned away from the Autobot, trying to hide his frustration with himself, and started across the roadway, stumbling over one of the cracks in its shattered surface. Decepticons sure liked to make a mess wherever they went, didn't they?

He felt something just on the edge of his perception. He knew the sensation. He was alarmingly familiar with it, and it terrified him more than anything else he had ever experienced. His brother was still out there, not dead, but not very alive, either. The gladiator picked his way through the rubble, not following a specific path, simply walking where he felt he should.

The Autobot was taking a course far to his right, just within his range of vision-at least the Autobot knew better than to try to bolt away when he thought the gladiator wasn't looking. He doubted the Autobot could possibly find his brother before he did, but an extra pair of optics never hurt anything. Plus, the mech had connections to a medic, and his brother needed a medic. Badly.

He was walking for a long time, not entirely paying attention to his surroundings because those damn warnings kept flashing across his mind and vision. Energon levels too low, lubricant levels too low, coolant levels too low, energy leaking...he growled at them. They were distracting.

At some point he realized that his path had taken on a much more direct nature. He was no longer conscious of being able to sense his brother, but he knew better than to contradict his intuition in times like this, because he was never wrong. Other Cybertronians never believed him when he talked about this innate knowledge of things pertaining to his brother, but they weren't the ones experiencing it, were they?

He proved himself right once again.

Sideswipe looked as if he had just been through a Seeker-baiting gone horribly wrong. Somehow he still managed to smile weakly when his brother knelt beside him, his golden hands moving almost of their own accord as they pulled back pieces of armor on the red mech's torso, searching for the worst injuries. The brothers had patched up each other enough times that it was nearly second-nature to them now, where to look for injuries, how to move armor out of the way without causing too much pain, how to apply temporary fixes to various wounds. Even with these skills, garnered from vorns of living in Kaon, the gold mech found himself hesitating, his hands trembling, his vision blurring. He attributed these happenings to his own poor condition and pushed on with tending to his brother.

_Thought you would have skipped town with the Autobots by now._ Sideswipe was worse off than he had realized. His brother wasn't using his language core either, instead resorting to their twin-bond to communicate. Things were bad indeed if even Sideswipe couldn't find the energy to speak.

_Shut up,_ was the response the gold warrior sent back.

_Can't get enough of me, huh?_ A raspy cough broke the silence as Sideswipe's vents sputtered, splattering energon on the ground. _Don't blame you. I can't get enough of me either._

_I said shut up._

There was a noise behind him. The Autobot. And...another mech.

The gold one stood quickly-too quickly-cannon once again armed and aimed at the newcomer, a yellow-green mech who scowled at him in return. The mech stalked across the battlefield, his armor scuffed in places, but his body otherwise unharmed and optics alert.

_Medic,_ his mind concluded. But still he growled softly as the medic crouched beside Sideswipe, the motions of his silver hands much more sure and steady than the gladiator's had been.

The medic was well within arm's reach. One wrong move from the Autobots, and the warrior could maim or kill the yellow-green mech. He shifted slightly, feeling warm energon, viscous from long exposure to the air, oozing down his leg. The claws on his feet dug into the ground in agitation, causing the metal roadway to creak softly. He hated medics. He hated medics messing with his brother. He hated _anyone_ messing with his brother. But he didn't have a choice right now. He had to let the medic near his brother or his brother would die.

His brother's life was far more important than his own discomfort.

The Autobot medic tilted his head to look up at him, no fear in his optics as he addressed the gold warrior with sharply-spoken Cybertronian. The gladiator didn't understand the words, though he did find it intriguing that the medic showed no fear around a trained murderer.

Sideswipe was struggling, his spark sending painful jolts through their bond, the gold mech's own spark flickering in response, causing him to flinch. The medic noticed but said nothing about it. Another agonizing twist of his spark made him wince. Sideswipe was barely hanging on. He growled his worry; it was not the low sound he used to threaten someone, but one that was lighter in tone, almost a soft chuff. His brother could only send the faintest reassurance across their bond in a pitiful attempt to appease the frantic warrior.

A new sound from behind him. He turned, tense, tired of being tense, but still ready to fight if he must.

It was just a shuttle. The black and white Autobot was up the ramp before the transport had even touched ground.

The medic was trying to get his attention, the gladiator realized. He turned back to the mech, who was pointing at the shuttle. _Transport somewhere safe,_ his mind said. After another brief moment of trying to force his sluggish processor into action, he realized the medic was asking for his help in moving Sideswipe to the shuttle.

He found himself wondering why he and his brother had to be so damn big. It was such an inconvenience sometimes. Then again, it was better to be their size than small like a minibot.

It hurt, but he was able to get Sideswipe into his arms and limp his way to the shuttle. Sideswipe was complaining about something, sending pulses of annoyance through their bond, which were just ignored. The red mech probably wasn't even aware he was doing that at this point. Replying would be a waste of energy.

He remembered stepping into the shuttle, but had only vague flashes of memory of what happened after. Letting himself shut down for a while just seemed so much more important. 

* * *

The first thing he saw was a bright light panel in the ceiling. Then he heard...silence. A strange silence. Not a silence he knew.

This place was not familiar to him.

He came online all at once, sitting up suddenly, cannon alive and whining with a full charge. There were several crashes from elsewhere in the room, surprised shouts as mechs dove for cover.

A medbay he didn't recognize. Mechs he didn't recognize. No, no, no...

_'Sideswipe?'_

He pushed himself off the table, painfully jarring his left side as his feet hit the floor. Glancing about quickly, aiming his cannon this way and that, he finally picked up the feel of his brother. He wasted no time in stationing himself at the red mech's side. Sideswipe was offline, with various instruments hooked up to him, cables and tubes coming from his chassis.

He hated seeing his brother in such a vulnerable position with those hideous things sticking out of him, but he knew better than to start randomly disconnecting things simply because they looked bad.

"Are you quite done?" The angry question boomed through the medbay.

_Language core working. Energy levels acceptable._

He jerked his cannon up to aim at the speaker. The yellow-green medic glared right back.

"You will put that thing away _right this instant_."

"Who are you?" he growled. "Where are we? What are you doing to my brother?"

"_I_ am Ratchet, and you are about to be in the Primus-damned Pits if you don't stop making a scene in my medbay!"

The gold mech continued scowling, but slowly powered down his weapon, allowing it to partially fold back into his arm.

With that accomplished, Ratchet pushed his way between the two brothers to check the monitoring equipment attached to Sideswipe. The gladiator stiffened at the unwanted intrusion, but refrained from any attempts to correct the matter. "In answer to your last question, I am _fixing_ your brother," Ratchet said testily. "Which _you_ requested I do."

He couldn't remember actually saying anything to the medic back in Kaon, but he wasn't about to argue. Instead, he watched Ratchet work, making sure the medic wasn't doing anything bad to his brother. It wouldn't be the first time a so-called medic had done something malicious to one of them.

Something clattered to the floor; the gladiator looked up to see another mech cautiously standing from where he had hidden himself behind a table. _Another medic,_ he concluded.

The second medic was forgotten as the medbay doors snapped open, and in walked two mechs.

Reflexively, he raised his cannon. One of the newcomers did likewise, although instead of a single cannon, he bore one on each arm.

"Trouble?" the black cannon-wielding mech ground out.

Hissing, Ratchet swung his fist into the gladiator's gun, which hovered just over his shoulder. "No weapons in my fragging medbay!"

"Put it down," the black mech reiterated, as if the gladiator hadn't been able to understand Ratchet.

"Please. Relax." This time it was the tallest of the trio that spoke. "We're not going to harm you or your brother."

"Unless you really want us to," the black mech interjected, pointedly aiming his guns at the warrior's head. "Then, by all means, keep waving that thing in Ratchet's face."

He never went down without a fight, not for anything. But there were at least three mechs in the room who looked perfectly ready to take him down if they needed, one of whom carried some rather impressive guns, one of whom was far taller than even himself and could probably dish out a nasty beating if he needed to. He had faced worse odds in a normal fight in the Forge before.

But there was also his brother, offline on the table next to him, and the medic, the one who held Sideswipe in such a compromising position. If being belligerent would possibly risk his brother's life, he wouldn't do it.

He once more stowed his weapon. He was at their mercy now. He didn't like being at anyone's mercy. He never showed mercy to anyone, and he didn't expect any in return. That was how it worked. All that he could do was hope that the Autobots had been telling the truth about not harming him or Sideswipe.

The black mech powered down his cannons as well, though he still looked ready for action at a moment's notice. For the moment at least, things were looking up for the brothers.

The tallest Autobot surveyed the scene before him with a calmness the gold mech had never seen in anyone before. "Kaonexi..." He was using the honorific form of 'gladiator', a form of the word that had not been used with any sort of seriousness for generations.

The gladiator in question had only ever heard it in the context of being mocked, and it rankled him to hear an Autobot, of all mechs, using it now. "Don't call me that," he snapped. "I have a designation."

The giant raised an optic ridge, as if mildly intrigued. "Yes?"

"Sunstreaker." He hated false pleasantries. "The idiot on the table is Sideswipe."

"Sunstreaker," the Autobot repeated. He watched the gladiator carefully, as if judging his reaction to hearing his own name. "I owe you and your brother my gratitude."

He looked up at the mech through narrowed optics. "I don't need anyone's gratitude." The spite in his words was somehow lessened by the fact that he had to look _up_ to see this Autobot's face. He didn't like having to look up at others.

"Nevertheless." The mech gazed back, unfazed by Sunstreaker's antagonistic attitude. "You kept many of the kaonex from reaching my troops, and for that, I am thankful."

_'His troops? He's a commander...? Ah. So this is Optimus Prime.'_ He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting of the illustrious Prime. Tallness, for one, and yes, he definitely was tall.

"Unfortunately, all we can do in return is offer medical services this..."

Sunstreaker gave a short snort of a laugh, interrupting the larger mech. Optimus fell silent, patiently waiting for an explanation. "You'd better be prepared to offer those services full-time," the gold mech said, "because we're not going anywhere."

"What?" The black mech was the first to break the silence that followed.

"Sides and I. We're joining your sorry crew. Finally got a taste for beating the slag out of Decepticons back in Kaon, liked it enough that we thought we'd keep doing it."

The shocked looks on the faces of the Autobots was totally worth it. _'Professional killers? In our army?'_ their expressions seemed to say.

Optimus, at least, looked more thoughtful than surprised. "We will discuss this once you and your brother have been released from the medbay."

"What's there to discuss? We're trained fighters, we want to frag some 'Cons, and from what I saw in Kaon, you could use mechs like us." Though his tone was threatening, Sunstreaker was careful to keep his facial expression as neutral as he could muster. No sense in unduly scaring the Autobots. Yet.

"We will discuss it," the Prime repeated. He glanced at Ratchet, optics flickering briefly as they exchanged some comms, then he stepped back out of the medbay, followed by the black mech, who looked as if he already had plenty to say about the matter. Sunstreaker frowned at them. It wasn't as if the Autobots were in a position to be picky about who joined their cause. So why all this talk about 'discussing' things?

"Word of advice," the black mech said as he stood in the doorway, his voice lowered to a threatening tone. "Don't you dare threaten our medics again." He waved his left arm in Sunstreaker's general direction, as if aiming his cannon at the gladiator, before also exiting the medbay.

The medic had not stopped working on Sideswipe during the entire exchange. "Didn't think I'd ever see a kaonex who wanted to follow Optimus."

"We have our reasons."

"I'm sure you do." The medic snapped shut a section of Sideswipe's armor; it closed with a loud click that Sunstreaker found somehow soothing. Ratchet then turned to give the gold mech a tight smile. "Welcome to the Autobot army."


	15. Thoughts on Minibots

Author's Note: Drabble. 

* * *

Prompt: Getting on with minibots 

* * *

By law, minibots were of the smallest classes.

By Sideswipe law, minibots were anyone smaller than himself. Anyone smaller than himself was annoying. Anyone who was annoying needed to be taught a lesson.

That Bluestreak, he was small, he was annoying. But he had innocence. He just wasn't right to teach lessons to. So Sideswipe resorted to just annoying him back.

That Cliffjumper though... He was nearly a minibot. He was annoying. And he was red.

As far as Sideswipe was concerned, there was only room for one handsome red devil in the Autobots.

Time to teach someone a lesson.


	16. Wrong Twin

Prompt: what happens when you get blamed for something your brother did (and he let you take the heat!)? 

* * *

Sideswipe was on the hunt already. Not but a few joors out of the medbay after fleeing Kaon, and only a couple cycles out of a cell after getting in a tussle with that obnoxious minibot. Sunstreaker could only attempt to drown his exasperation in the cube he currently held. It wasn't that he faulted his brother for wanting to find a femme for the night, but Sideswipe just had to take the most direct approach possible. That may have worked in Kaon, most of the time, but Sunstreaker had a feeling the Autobots would not appreciate it so much.

He could feel the excited static charge coming from his brother's armor. -Primus, you're not even within arm's reach of a femme. Calm down.-

-You just need to get overloaded.-

-What I need is for you to stop getting _my_ armor charged up.-

-You don't have to sit so close to me.-

-I'm on the other fragging side of the table. _You_ need to calm down.-

Sideswipe snorted in reply. His blue optics scanned the individuals present in the rec room. It was a nice room, Sunstreaker gave the Autobots that. A little more sparse than the one in Kaon, but comfortable enough. Less high-grade though.

At least he had a cube now. He took a swig from it. -So who is your lucky victim tonight?-

Sideswipe looked around the room again. -That one.-

Sunstreaker glanced at the femme his brother indicated. She was a large femme, perhaps the same size class as themselves, with shadowy red armor that was heavier than a typical femme's. Sunstreaker had seen her around the base on a few occasions and he had the vague impression that she held a rank of some importance. But he knew for a fact the minor detail of... -She's taken.-

The red warrior beside him squinted at the femme. -She's not bonded. Her spark's normal.-

Sunstreaker gave a small shrug, turning his attention back to his cube. -She's taken.-

-You're wrong.-

-Don't say I didn't warn you.- 

* * *

When Inferno was upset, it was best to stay out of his way.

Unfortunately for Red Alert, Inferno was his bonded friend, and it was his responsibility to help his friend when he was upset. But despite their lifetime of friendship, Red Alert still flinched as the much-larger mech stormed into the officer's lounge.

Red slowly turned from the data pad he was reading. "Something wrong?" he asked cautiously.

Inferno huffed. "Now what would make you think that?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Your stomping about, for one."

"That was a rhetorical question, Red."

"So what is it?"

"Those bastard kaonex!" Inferno spat as he paced the length of the room, whirled around, and started back. His heavy footsteps made the floor tremble.

The security officer grimaced. _'I told Prime those two would be more trouble then they're worth, but did he listen to me? Of course not.'_ Sure, the Autobots needed mechs suited for battle, but those brothers...there was something _off_ about them.

It sounded as if the Autobots would soon be finding out exactly what was so _off_. "What happened?"

Inferno didn't slow as he stomped by. "One of them was harassing Firestar."

"Hmm." Red quirked an optic ridge.

"Don't 'hmm' me," Inferno growled. "I know what you're thinking. I wouldn't tolerate them harassing _any_ femme."

"Of course you wouldn't. I'm sure Firestar can take care of things herself," the smaller mech said, trying to calm his friend. The stomping was starting to get to him. _'As much as I would dearly love to see those two-'_

"I threw the slagger across the room."

"Ah." _'Well, there you have it. Too bad I missed that. I'll have to check the video archive when I'm back on duty.'_

Inferno was waving his arms emphatically as he continued his pacing. "He wouldn't leave her alone! And then his brother showed up!"

"And you threw him too?"

"No, he had enough processor power to leave things well enough alone. But it doesn't faze them, Red! Physical threats." This obviously irritated Inferno, as his own size and strength were his more imposing traits.

"I don't suppose it would," Red said evenly, as he tracked his friend's progress back down the room. "They're gladiators."

"I'm going to kill that fragger."

"As much as I'd enjoy seeing that, I highly doubt Optimus would."

That earned the security director a low growl.

Red sighed softly. "You done ranting?"

"Yes."

"Good." Red relaxed a bit in his chair. "May I finish reading?" He waved the datapad slightly.

"Can you do me a favor?"

The smaller mech closed his optics, trying to suppress the delighted grin that threatened to spread across his face. "I was hoping you'd say that." 

* * *

_'There you are.'_ At the soft notification, Red Alert swung his view through the several security cameras displayed on his HUD. Yes, the gold kaonex was in one of the smaller hallways. Alone.

Going through with this would probably earn him more than a few strikes against his name in Prowl's books. But Red was not afraid of extracting a little revenge on behalf of his friend. What would Prowl do, toss him in a cell? Pointless, seeing as Red had been the one to code the security on those cells.

He input a tiny string of code, and the blast door at the end of the hall dropped. He watched through the camera as the warrior pressed the engage button on the door's control panel. The mech was not pleased when nothing happened.

Red dropped the blast door behind the gladiator.

The gold warrior was definitely not pleased.

Satisfied for now, Red cut all input from the security panel in that little section of the hallway save for the visual feed, which he pushed aside to a corner of his HUD. Let the mech sit in there for a while. His brother was off-base on an assignment with Ironhide, nowhere he could interfere with things, which would give the gold mech plenty of time to cool his thrusters in the makeshift pen. Perhaps after this, he would be a little less apt to go after Autobot femmes. 

* * *

To say that the gold gladiator was fragged off about being confined for Primus-knew-how-long (Red knew exactly how long) was an understatement. He was pacing the shortened hallway like a caged beast, armor plates along his back and shoulders shifting in small displays of rage. Every so often, he would rake his claws along the wall.

Red brought the image to the front of his HUD again, turning all the feeds on. He could heard the gladiator snarling to himself, words Red couldn't quite understand and probably didn't want to. **-Had enough?-** he said through the intercom.

The mech was at the comm panel more quickly than Red would have thought possible. "You Pit-slagging bastard! Let me out!"

**-How about you stop swearing at superior officers, and I'll consider it?-**

"You have no right to keep me in here!"

**-You have no right to harass femmes.-**

The gold mech was silent for a beat, optics dimming slightly, as if he was confused. Then his face plates twitched back into the rage that had covered his visage earlier, and his voice dropped into a truly frightening growl. "Let me out."

**-Why should I?-**

"I need to..._see_ my brother."

**-He's not available right now,-** Red said glibly.

"Isn't he."

**-So you can just stay right there until he is.-**

The mech's mouth twitched, as if he was going to say something.

Red Alert saw the warrior's forearm reforming itself, then he found himself looking into the barrel of a heavy-duty cannon.

A powerful burst of energy shot through the camera and into his HUD. Sparks blinded him, burning into his face. Hissing in pain, Red Alert jerked back from his console, frantically tearing the connection cables from his mask, instantly severing himself from the data streams. Red pushed his mask back as he curled up on his seat, a hand pressed to the left side of his face. "Primus...slagging Pits..." He pushed at his mask again, but the left side refused to retract properly. _'Well frag it all. That's going to be fun to repair.'_

"Whoa, Red...what's wrong?" Blaster called in from the doorway to the security room.

"Blaster. Thank Primus. Can you cover for me?" _'Ow, Primus...think he got my optic too.'_

"Sure. What happened?"

"Nothing," said the security director as he shakily rose from his seat.

"Uh-huh." The larger mech settled himself into his own chair. "You _are_ going to the medbay to take care of that 'nothing,' right?"

"Of course," Red snapped.

Blaster raised a hand in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. Just making sure. No need to get snippy." 

* * *

Sunstreaker lay in his berth, hands behind his head, legs crossed, waiting. Just waiting. And he would wait for as long as it took.

It was late that night when he finally felt his brother's presence enter the next room, faint but most definitely there. Sideswipe was trying to shield his spark signature from his brother. It never worked.

The gold mech was up immediately, stalking across his room to the door he and Sideswipe had so very legally installed between their quarters. He had it open before Sideswipe could reach it to engage the lock. For a brief moment, they froze in place, Sunstreaker looming ominously, Sideswipe half-crouched, ready to run. But he had nowhere to run.

Sunstreaker lunged at his brother, catching him around his torso in a vicious tackle. They slammed into the far wall with a loud clang.

"What...what the hell, Sunny?" Sideswipe struggled to extricate himself from his twin's hold.

"I told you to stay the frag away from that femme!" Sunstreaker was trying to twist his brother around into an immobilizing face-down hold position.

Sideswipe also knew how to execute that hold, and how to break out of it. Which he did with ease. "The frag are you talking about?"

The gold warrior had lost the hold on his brother, but he still had him pinned to the floor. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't lie to me." In warning, Sunstreaker raised the hooked blades along his forearms.

Sideswipe's struggles increased. "I didn't do anything!"

"That's not what I hear." Sunstreaker was snarling with ire.

The red mech finally managed to slip free of Sunstreaker's grasp and backed himself across the room, away from his brother. With how small the room was, that didn't put much distance between them. "Okay, I went after her, you were right, her giant slagger of a spark-puppy blew a fuse. Happy?"

Sunstreaker's reply was a roaring battle cry as he once again went after his twin. _Hss-PING._ With one swipe of his bladed arm, he sent a piece of Sideswipe's armor flying across the room.

"_Fragging Pits, Sunny!_ What's _wrong_ with you?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong." Sunstreaker's armor was bristling in his rage. "_Me_ being punished for _your_ inability to control your disgusting spark-lust, that's what!"

In the confines of the room, Sideswipe was only barely able to dodge the golden claws that came at his face. "Oh, that was you?" he said non-committally.

Sunstreaker froze. "You..._knew_ that glitch-bastard had me trapped."

Sideswipe sneered back at him. "Hey, I wasn't about to skip away from my assignment to take your place. Consider us even for-"

He was not able to dodge the point-blank cannon blast that sent him through the wall of his room and into the corridor beyond. 

* * *

First Aid was, frankly, terrified of the gladiators. But as he was the medic on duty at this time of the night, he did not have the option of getting Ratchet to deal with the one who had just walked into the medbay.

Sideswipe took one look at the junior medic and his current patient, Red Alert, and painfully marched himself down to the far end of the medbay. He settled himself onto one of the tables there and crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide what appeared to be a weapons blast to his midsection.

"Don't be so excited to see me," Sideswipe muttered.

"I'll be there in a moment," First Aid replied. Red Alert only scowled as the medic continued working on his helm.

For a few breems, there was an uneasy silence between the three mechs.

"So," Sideswipe said at last, addressing Red Alert. "What're you in here for?"

"Your brother," the security director growled. "You?"

"My brother."


	17. Pain

Prompt: Horrific injuries happen to frontliners. How does the one not injured deal with the pain? 

* * *

Sunny was right, the Autobots really don't have anyone who knows how to fight. Those Autobots who were in the military before this war, they fight like soldiers. Which is to say, they have no idea how to deal with the sorts of mechs the Decepticons have picked up. Thank Primus they have us now, huh?

Of course they flung us out on the front lines. Not that we'd have it any other way, but there's only the two of us, and no backup until the rest of our squad gets to us, _if_ they get to us. Sunny and I weren't the best gladiators in Kaon for nothing, but that doesn't mean we can't or don't get injured. We get hurt out here, we're on our own.

I don't even know what happened to Sunny this time, just that he suddenly sent a wave of pain through our bond during the battle. Then he ignored it, and I ignored it, because you can't get caught up in that stuff when you have your foot holding down one 'Con and your claws around the neck of another. It's when I don't see my brother after the battle that I start to worry. Come to find out, he's already back at the base, in the medbay. That medic Ratchet was stupid enough to try to get close to Sunny to sedate him, and was lucky enough to actually succeed and then drag him off the battlefield all by himself.

I've got to hand it to the mech. Even _I_ don't like going near Sunny when he's all battle-raged. He's not exactly cooperative when he's in that state of mind.

So anyway, that's why I'm out in the hallway in front of the medbay now, waiting for Sunny to wake up. I really don't know why I want to be in such close proximity to him when he's in pain instead of as far away as I can get. It'd be much less stressful for me, that's for sure. But I know what it's like to wake up in pain, all disoriented and confused, and how much worse it is when I have no idea where my brother is. I don't _want_ to be this close to Sunny when he wakes up, but I have to be, or else he gets really stressed. And by stressed, I mean he panics. Dealing with him when he's in a dead panic is almost as bad as dealing with him when he's battle-raged.

And there he is.

There's no one else in the entire empire that knows what it's like to have to suffer through a twin-bond when your twin is badly injured. The first thing you feel is this dull throbbing at the back of your head, the kind that makes you want to curl up somewhere and not move for the rest of the cycle. You can feel his shock and confusion, even though he's not fully aware yet, and because he's not fully aware there's nothing you can do to make him calm down. Then the pain comes.

If we're close enough physically, as we are now, I can tell exactly where he hurts. Primus, I wish I could be in my quarters right now and away from this pain, but as it is, I'm still sitting on the floor outside the medbay, leaning back against the wall. I've curled up as tightly as I can, trying to ease the agony of a slashed-up torso that isn't mine, trying to ignore the ever-increasing throbbing in my head as it spreads to my spark.

He's fully awake now, and he's calmed down now that he's sensed me. This means he now has more control over what comes through our bond; he's trying to prevent too much of his pain from reaching me. Thankfully, it's just enough relief that I can uncurl myself. And if I know my brother, which I do, the next thing that'll happen will be...

-...Can you come in?- Yup. He needs me. He'll never say it to my face, but in the quiet of a comm, where no one else can hear it, he'll let it slip from time to time.

-No. Ratchet kicked me out. Said there wasn't enough room for me to stay in there.-

Sunny's silent for a bit, probably looking around the medbay. He sends grudging confirmation of Ratchet's assessment through the comm.

-You okay in there?- A stupid question. Neither of us likes medbays. Sunny especially tends to not handle such confinement well.

-For now.-

-You sure?-

-Yes,- he snaps, irritated with my questioning. Yes indeed, my brother loves me.

-Fine. I'll come see you as soon as I can.- Ugh, standing isn't so comfortable. It still feels like blades are being shoved into me, all up and down my torso. My body locks up for a brief moment from the pain. -What happened to you, anyway?-

-I don't want to talk about it.- Which could mean any number of things. He doesn't like to talk much about anything. It doesn't matter though. I'll find out sooner or later. I always do. For now, high-grade is an order. I need to do _something_ about the pain I'm still feeling. 

* * *

He's in pain.

I can't rest when it's this bad. My body hurts, my mind hurts, my spark won't quiet. I have to move.

Our rooms here are far smaller than what we had in Kaon. One-two steps, the length of my berth, one-two back. Three to move into the front room, four across it. Six back to my berth. The pain won't stop. _Make it stop._

I don't really remember leaving my quarters, but now I'm walking through the hallway. There's more room here to move. I can feel the claws on my toes click against the smooth floor, but I don't hear them, the soft _tick-tick-tick_ that I've grown accustomed to. It takes me a few moments to realize why: I can't hear the clicking over my growling.

_They're hurting him._ We offer our services, and they repay us like this? Part of me isn't surprised. When have we ever been lucky enough to be treated well? Ever since we came online, the universe has conspired against us.

Oh. I know these doors. I can feel Sunny on the other side of them. I can hear the muffled sounds of voices through the walls. _Ratchet._ Seven paces along the medbay doors. Seven back. There should be a way in, but for the life of me I can't remember where or how. _Seven down. Seven back. Seven down. Seven back..._

_ Pain pain pain..._

I snarl at the door this time, raking my claws along it. They're hurting him in there, he can't make them stop, I can't make them stop because I'm stuck out here. _I will tear down the fragging doors if I have to. Let me in!_

As if they heard my thoughts, the doors click. I freeze in my tracks as they start to open. My body tenses. _I have the advantage in this situation. I can strike before the mech on the other side of the door even recognizes who I am. By my claws or blades or guns, he will die. Stance steady, only move when the mech is in sight. His head is at my chest height, neck is a hand's length lower, bring the weapons up from below, strike behind the chin..._

_ He will pay._

* * *

You know, as much as you may like to think otherwise, I don't _enjoy_ being thrown in a detainment cell. I enjoy it even less when it's because of stuff I can't control. But nobody understands that when you have a twin, sometimes you have absolutely no say in the things you do. Nobody understands that when you're a 4-Beta mech with a twin, and you've been trained to be violent, and you think your twin is in trouble, the only way you can even _think_ to react is to attack whoever's causing the pain. Even if the one causing the pain is the CMO of the Autobot army, who was actually pulling pieces of a drone out of your brother's side and had simply not sedated your brother beforehand, due to said brother reacting rather aggressively to the idea of being injected with chemicals.

The fact that my brother got fragged up by a suicidal _drone_ is pretty slagging hilarious. I'd be laughing my aft off if that wasn't the reason, in a round-about way, for me sitting in a cell now as punishment doing something that I had no way to control at the time. The whole situation leading up to me trying to off the CMO is actually quite logical now that I know what the frag was going on, but logic means nothing when you're not in a position to comprehend it, hence why I was trying to kill Ratchet in the first place. Sunny would say that I don't have the ability to comprehend logic even when I'm in my right mind. Maybe he's right.

"Of course I'm right."

I look up at him, sitting there on the floor just outside my cell. He's not looking at me, busy as he is with fussing with the machinations in his left forearm that control the curved blades stored under his armor. The blades snap out with a soft hiss, flicking back and forth a few times as Sunny contemplates them. Then he frowns, opening up his armor to adjust something. "You don't comprehend the whole concept of logic."

I can't help but make my tone a bit snappish. "I certainly don't when you can't keep your half of the bond stable." He has a real problem doing this sometimes.

"Hmph." He doesn't enjoy being reminded about the things I depend on him for any more than I enjoy being reminded about what he depends on _me_ for. Too bad. "I don't think you can blame your entire lack of a sense of logic on me." He tests the blades again.

"You just gonna sit there, or what?" Watching him obsess over his weaponry is getting aggravating, considering my own weapons were disabled before I was thrown in here. Okay, so everything about having to sit in a cell is aggravating. If only...

He doesn't even look up. "If you're asking me to spring you from here, I'm not going to."

Damn it. He knows me too well.


	18. What to Do When (Take 1)

Prompt: What to do when your brother is a druggie. 

* * *

Something tells me I should have payed more attention last night when my brother was talking to me. But there wasn't anything then to alert me to a potential problem. He had been simply sitting backwards in a chair, arms resting across its top as I worked on buffing a scratch out of my shin. He was talking about doing something with our impending free time, to celebrate actually having free time and being out of the cells to enjoy it. Primus, I never thought I'd see the inside of detainment cells as much as we have since joining the Autobots. It's not our fault they're a bunch of soft-sparked ninnies who can't handle us.

Sideswipe's suggestions of things to do were nothing out of the ordinary: go into Iacon and get overcharged, go into Iacon and find some femmes, go into Iacon and get overcharged _and_ find some femmes. What can I say, my brother is a whore. I of course turned down these ideas, although I half expected Sides to come up with some way to cajole me into going anyway. But he didn't. He pulled something out of the hold in his upper right arm, a small red-orange capsule barely a quarter-length of his claw down its long axis. He waved it teasingly in front of me, saying it was the last one he had and he'd share it with me. How he ever slipped anathsin past that hard-aft Prowl, I'll never know. My brother works in mysterious ways.

That's what's bothering me, I think. I denied his offer, even knowing full well that leaving him with a full capsule of the stuff would only be asking for trouble later on. What kind of trouble, only time will tell. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer when I'm off-shift later. For now, though, training takes precedence. It's not like the Autobots have much to offer me in the way of instruction, although that old-timer Ironhide might still have a few tricks to pull yet, so it's more of me training myself against what drones they have. That number has decreased significantly since Sideswipe and I joined. The medics here are really the only ones with the knowledge of how to piece drones back together, and they're usually busy with other things. I try to make the drones last, I really do. It's either tear them apart or tear apart that minibot fragger Cliffjumper again, and as much fun as that is I don't particularly relish getting sent to the detainment cells yet again just because I happened to be bored and out of drones to beat up.

Ironhide thankfully saves me from my boredom by deciding to engage me in some one-on-one sparring now. Seeing as he's the only one in the squad who's had even a little actual combat training, he makes it slightly more worth my time to duel with him than a drone. He's old, he's not as quick on his feet as I am, and he's got a gimp hip that prevents certain movements, but, as he so kindly demonstrated that time I tore up Cliffjumper, he can really pack a punch. I'd appreciate not having my armor unnecessarily scuffed and dented today, so I decide to use our sparring match to practice blocking techniques.

Sometimes, I think he's rather glad to have a couple of soldiers under his command who already know how to fight, even if he's constantly yelling at us that we're not in Kaon any more and we need to stop beating the slag out of our fellow Autobots when we already _are_ going easy on them.

I've caught Ironhide's right arm and am preparing to twist it down and away from my face when the comm panel suddenly clicks on. **-Ironhide, is Sunstreaker with you?-** It's the medic from the Pits.

"Yes." Ironhide pulls his arm out of my grasp in a way that indicates our match is over. Bastard, my vents are barely running. How hard is it to get a good training session around here?

** -I need him in the medbay. Now.-** Ratchet's using his no-nonsense voice, which most mechs mistake for his 'I'm angry and I'm going to throw something at you' voice. I have to wonder if it's a good thing that I know the difference already. He has wicked aim for a medic, but that's beside the point.

Ironhide tilts his head slightly towards the door to the room, indicating I'm free to go. He, evidently, also knows the difference between Ratchet's various vocal tones.

"On my way," I say before the comm panel clicks off.

The training rooms are between the rec room and the medbay, meaning it's a short walk for me. The Autobots quickly learned to stay out of my way when I'm going somewhere, so I don't have to deal with being bothered in the hallway. It's nice.

It's when I step into the medbay that I realize why I had been feeling so off regarding my brother this entire cycle.

Ratchet is giving me an odd look, his arms crossed over his chest in a stance that's more idle than threatening. I know, without him saying anything at all, that he's telling me to do something about my brother. This is an odd thing. Usually the others are asking Sideswipe to intervene with _me_, not the other way around.

"He's back there." The medic shrugs a shoulder in the direction of one of the private rooms at the back of the medbay. As I head to it, I can't help but think that Sideswipe must have done something very impressive to end up with his own room this time.

He's sprawled on the single table in the room, making incoherent sounds and moving in odd, disjointed ways. But it's the feeling that rolls across our bond that worries me the most.

The anathsin.

He finally realizes I'm in the room and looks at me, although his optics won't quite focus. He gives me a lopsided grin.

Damn it, I should have gotten some of it away from him when I had the chance.

"You missed out," he slurs. Then he makes a strange cooing sound before giggling and returning to his unintelligible ramblings.

The whole thing. He injected the entire fragging capsule of nath. After nearly dying thanks to his addictions, he does this.

After _swearing_ to me he would never do something like that ever again, he does this.

I've always kept my promises to him. Why can't he do the same to me?

It's all I can do to not maul him right then and there. Instead, I storm out of the room and across the medbay. Primus help anyone who so much as looks at me between here and my quarters. 

* * *

Of course there was the unwanted side effect of having to suffer through the pain my brother shot through our bond as he came down from what could have been a very deadly high. He begged for me to come back to the medbay and stay with him and comfort him. I remained in my quarters. Let the fragger burn in the Pits for all I care.

How he escaped punishment from Prowl, I don't know. Maybe he figured Sideswipe suffered enough thanks to his own stupidity that he didn't need further correction. Two cycles later, the fragger's come back to training. I can't even bring myself to look at him. He accordingly feels very shamed by this and stays on the other side of the training room. Our squadmates say nothing about the situation; even Cliffjumper is looking decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe, just maybe, I can get through training today without wanting to rend my brother's head from his body.

But, true to Sideswipe style, he decides he can't keep his vocalizer muted one moment more. -If you had gone in on it with me, it wouldn't have happened,- he comms to me.

That's _it_.

I charge him, ducking slightly to catch him in the chest with my shoulder, and drive him back against the wall. He grunts at the impact, trying to push me away. I clamp a hand over his face, my claws very nearly piercing the delicate plating. He protests only briefly, his feet knocking against my legs as I hold him up against the wall by his head. He may not care as much about his appearance as I do-let's face it, he doesn't have as much to worry about-but even he doesn't relish the idea of having his face torn off from excessive struggling.

I push my face close to his, feeling him flinch beneath my grasp. He's scared. Good. "How _dare_ you," I hiss. "How dare you try to pin this on me. You _promised_. Or does this mean nothing to you?" I jab my thumb claw into the top glyph on his right cheek-piece, the first one he ever received, the one that proclaims our bond. He jerks with pain as the tip of my claw pierces his armor, further etching the glyph. A rivulet of pale, shimmering energon starts running down his cheek. He's sending a veritable barrage of shock, pain, and frightened apology through our bond. But it's not enough to make up for what he pulled with the nath, for his blatant disregard of our kinship, for his betrayal of my trust. I allow my claw to slip deeper in, until he lets out a pathetic whimper of pain.

-Sunstreaker...-

There are some times I wish I could disown my careless, stupid addict of a twin. As that would have adverse effects on me, however, I can only settle for the next best thing: I close my side of the conscious part of our bond. I give him a moment to register this before releasing him. He slides to the floor, weakened by shock, one hand against his wounded face, the other against his chest, which bears a nasty dent from my charge.

"You bastard." He doesn't look up at my words. That's how I know I've done a satisfactory job of expressing my rage to him. In the space of a few astroseconds, I've made him feel thoroughly guilty and ashamed of his little stunt and reminded him to stop neglecting his part of our relationship. I am nothing if not efficient. Maybe next time he'll think before so foolishly risking his life to feed his addictions.

Somehow, I doubt he will, and that's what hurts the most.


	19. PDAs

Prompt: Public displays of affection 

* * *

When one of the former gladiators entered the rec room, a mech would be wise to keep his distance until he saw which one it was and what mood he was in. When both came in together, it was best to simply stay away from them altogether, unless one was a particularly brave soul.

Nobody was a brave soul this day. Everyone kept to their own seats as the two massive warriors came into the rec room, for all appearances calm as they each retrieved a cube of energon, then selected an empty table to sit at. The Autobots preferred it when Sunstreaker was visibly irritated and Sideswipe smiling at some new scheme or another. Then, it was easy to know what would happen if you said what things to them. This was not the case when they looked relaxed. Still and quiet they may be on the outside, but one look into their optics would reveal something simmering just below the surface, something you may not want to unleash through what you thought was just an innocent comment.

If anyone had been listening, they would have heard the brothers conversing in low voices as they sat at their table, although the words they spoke would not have made sense to anyone but the Twins themselves. It was an oddity on Cybertron to come across a language besides Cybertronian, but the curiosity most mechs felt for the novelty of another language was greatly tempered by their fear of gold gladiator and their distrust of his brother.

One thing the Autobots did know was that Sunstreaker was not one for carrying on long conversations, so it would have come as no surprise to anyone, had they been paying attention, that eventually the brothers fell silent. They nursed their cubes slowly, Sideswipe leaning back in his chair with one arm draped over the back, Sunstreaker resting his elbows against the table. Neither was in a great hurry to do anything at the moment, and their optics dimmed slightly as they continued their conversation via comms.

All was peaceful in the rec room, mechs chattering to one another about this and that, the Twins not paying attention to anyone in particular. And then, the brothers' optics lit up once more. Their placid stillness suddenly became the infamous calm before a storm, their bodies tensed, ready to strike.

One moment passed. Another.

It was impossible to tell which brother started it. All at once, Sideswipe leaped out of his chair as Sunstreaker hurled himself at him, knocking over their chairs and cubes of energon. Sideswipe was slammed onto the floor with a nasty-sounding crash as the disrupted objects came raining down around them.

The other Autobots jumped, startled, twisting around in their seats to see what happened. They glanced to one another as if asking if they should intervene, and who should intervene if they needed to. Sunstreaker had put his brother into a painful-looking hold and was biting-_biting!_-the lighter armor on Sideswipe's upper arm. Sideswipe hissed, wrenching one arm free to clamp his hand over Sunstreaker's helm, the tips of his claws hooking under the back of the heavy black armor as he pulled, forcing his brother's head to turn into a position less conducive to bite from.

Then they were rolling across the floor in a vicious wrestling match, hissing and snarling at each other, gold and black and red and white blurred together as they slammed into the far wall. Sideswipe was kicked off by his brother, but the red twin pounced again, taloned feet hitting the metal floor as Sunstreaker twisted away. Sunstreaker raised a foot to deliver a hard kick to Sideswipe's side, and he fell to the floor to be immediately tackled again by the gold mech, who growled as he tried to find a way to pin his brother down once more. Sideswipe responded with his own growl as writhed, making himself as difficult to hold onto as he possibly could.

Seeing the brothers engage each other in a knock-down, drag-out fight was nothing new. If any of the mechs had been paying particular attention this time, however, they would have realized that something was different, something about the brightness of Sideswipe's optics, or that Sunstreaker's growl was not as threatening as usual, or how even though the two mechs were fighting with wild abandon, they had yet to cause serious damage to one another.

Their duel continued across the rec room floor, the other mechs having wisely jumped out of their way. The gladiators rolled out into the hallway, oblivious to everyone and everything around them.

Sideswipe got himself free of his brother's grip, and before he could be caught again, he transformed himself into his hovercar form. The sleek vehicle shot off through the hallway, the thrum of his engines echoing up and down the corridors. Not to be outdone, Sunstreaker quickly followed suit.

Their race got Red Alert in quite a fine rage. The security director shouted at them through any frequencies he could access, but the Twins ignored him, utterly involved in their personal contest. Those mechs who had been in the hallways dove for cover when they heard the sound of engines, not a moment too soon as red and gold blurs shot past them far too quickly for safety or comfort. Red Alert had just activated the first blast doors when the Twins escaped through the north hangar to continue their breakneck chase around the outside of the compound. They made ample use of the massive forefield that served as a landing area for Seekers in bygone days, zipping around at dangerous speeds and executing fantastically tight maneuvers that made their repulsor coils whine from strain.

And then Sideswipe activated his boosters, the vents unfolding along his back side, exhaust ports glowing a dim blue before they lit, sending the red hovercar hurtling across the field. Only a trail of white-hot exhaust followed in his wake.

Until Sunstreaker did likewise, unfurling his own thrusters, which ignited with a roar; his brother would not lose him today.

When he had come too close to the outer wall for his comfort, Sideswipe cut the boosters, braking to bank sharply to the right. He turned so suddenly that his flank dragged along the ground, sending up sparks and a cringe-inducing screech.

Sunstreaker did not cut his boosters, instead partially transforming himself as he neared his brother at an alarming rate. He reached out one arm, fingers spread as he made a grab for his twin. His claws caught on Sideswipe's paneling, slicing through the red armor until they caught on something beneath and held, dragging Sideswipe back from his bid for freedom. The gold warrior's momentum brought them both crashing into the wall.

They seemed to neither realize nor care how deadly that stunt could have been. Fully transformed into their normal modes once more, they continued their wrestling match, tumbling across the field until, suddenly, they stopped. They were still once more, although instead of sitting in chairs in the rec room, they were entangled in one another's limbs. A deafening silence enveloped the field, only broken by the soft whirring of vents.

Eventually, Sideswipe pushed himself off his brother and flopped onto his back on the cool surface of the field, arms and legs spread-eagle. Sunstreaker allowed himself to relax as well, laying close enough to his red twin that he could have touched him, but not so close that he actually had to. Neither brother said a word as they gazed up at the stars that never disappeared from the Cybertronian sky. If anyone had been watching them, they would have found it strange that not even Sunstreaker was complaining about the scratches and dents that now covered his body.

If anyone had been close enough to see it, they would have found it very odd indeed that the gladiators were smiling, not with their usual feral grins, but something far more mild and touched with unexpected sincerity.


	20. What to Do When (Take 2)

Prompt: What to do when your brother is a drunkard. 

* * *

Sunstreaker had never been one for celebrations. The loudness and constant activity wore on him, so he tended to simply get himself a cube of high-grade (or two or five) and sulk in a corner for a while before heading back to his quarters.

That left Sideswipe to have enough fun for the both of them at this victory celebration, and it was something he did with relish. This time, he managed to get Bluestreak to down far more high-grade than was probably healthy for a mech of his age and build, and after the poor kid had simply passed out from being overcharged, Sideswipe had wasted no time in making the best of the situation. He couldn't remember exactly why he had been carrying around a small armful of colored light globes in his holds, but they would serve his purposes just fine. Further sifting through the odd collection of things he stored in his holds provided him with a container of glue he had snitched from his brother at some earlier point (he couldn't even remember why Sunstreaker had the glue in the first place. It was probably better not to ask), and he set to work making Bluestreak's wing-panels the most shiny and colorful wing-panels in the entire Autobot army.

He also found a glitch-mouse in the hold above his right hip. _'Ah. That's where I put it.'_ He had almost forgotten about the thing after he had caught it earlier in the cycle. Thankfully, it had put itself into stasis mode out of fright, so it hadn't been squirming around the whole time. Sideswipe wasn't sure he would have been able to stand that, unless it had been for a most spectacular prank. He couldn't remember having any specific prank in mind when he had caught the glitch-mouse, so why he had thought it would a good idea to stow a the creature in his hold, he didn't know. But it was nice that he had the pest at his disposal now.

The glitch-mouse fit very nicely on the midpoint of Bluestreak's chevron. With careful precision belied by his inebriated state, Sideswipe affixed the glitch-mouse to the mech using a small line of glue along the tiny creature's back. Sideswipe had a feeling he'd be regretting doing this later, but he was too drunk to really care at the moment. Not that regret ever stopped him anyway.

After completing his masterpiece, he had gotten himself some more high-grade, and began making his usual rounds hunting for the Autobot femmes. Sure, they had made it clear from the beginning that they wanted nothing to do with him, but there was always the chance that one of them would be just overcharged enough to let him have a little fun with her just this once. He was, however, very careful to give Firestar wide berth, as he had absolutely no intention of getting into another row with that mech Inferno. Had he been sober, perhaps he might have risked it, but in his current state even he'd be hard-pressed to get out of a fight with the larger mech without excessive damage.

He gave up on that pursuit quickly. He was far too overcharged to be coherent enough for such activities, which, considering this was Sideswipe, was quite an accomplishment. So he settled for just doing whatever came to mind first, and the first thing he thought was how that Jazz mech wasn't so bad, maybe they could find something to do together. Sideswipe took to following the smaller mech around, and the two of them regaled the other Autobots with their renditions of the raunchiest songs they could remember, or crude lyrics to more tame songs. After a while, they decided to help Bluestreak, who was still offline and draped over one of the tables, back to his quarters. Sideswipe said hello to Red Alert through one of the security cameras on the way there, giving the security director an innocent grin that caused Jazz to burst out laughing and nearly drop Bluestreak's leg, that being all he was really carrying. What with Bluestreak being bigger than the lieutenant, Sideswipe had taken on the bulk of the task of carrying the youngling, which was quite a task indeed thanks to the high-grade.

Red Alert only warned them to stay out of Ratchet's way once the medic saw what Sideswipe had done to Bluestreak. For some reason, thinking of the CMO was extraordinarily funny, and Sideswipe and Jazz were overtaken by fits of laughter, forcing them to set Bluestreak on the floor for a bit while their indulged their amusement at the mental image of a stompy enraged medic.

They finally made it to the barracks and were able to situate Bluestreak on his berth, after asking Red's help in opening the door to the youngling's quarters when they realized that neither of them currently had the mental capacity to try hacking the lock. Jazz said he'd watch the gray mech to make sure he didn't have adverse reactions to all the high-grade he had intaken, so Sideswipe wandered back out into the hallway, still somewhat giggly at the thought of Ratchet's impending reaction to the now colorful and glowy Bluestreak (and squeaky too, thanks to the now very awake glitch-mouse, mustn't forget squeaky). After a bit of aimless walking this way and that, he decided there was only one more thing to do tonight before he put himself into recharge: he had to bother his twin as much as possible. It was a tradition, after all, and one must observe tradition.

Sunstreaker hated when Sideswipe just went into his room without being invited. But then, the gold mech never bothered changing his lock codes, so he couldn't be all that serious about it. Sideswipe keyed in the short code and was rewarded with the door hissing open. He strode in, then paused as the door closed behind him. The room was dimly-lit, making the faint glow of the energon cubes on the desk in front of him all the more vibrant and attention-grabbing. Sideswipe narrowed his optics, staring at the high-grade. The liquid had a slightly orange tinge to it, indicative of only one kind of high-grade that Sideswipe knew. And he knew lots of kinds of high-grade.

"Hey. Told you not to get into my stash," Sideswipe said as he pulled the only chair in the room over to him and flopped into it. "I work hard to make an' hide that stuff, y'know."

"Get out of my room."

Sideswipe looked over at the large form huddling in the shadows that covered the single berth. "Not gonna happen."

The faint blue glow of a pair of optics appeared in the darkness. "Get out."

It was then that Sideswipe felt the odd pulses of energy coming through their bond. He frowned. "Aw, c'mon Sunny. Don't start this again. I'm not sober."

"Neither am I." Sunstreaker had not moved from where he sat curled up on his berth, backed into the corner of the walls.

The red mech glanced again at the pile of cubes, both empty and full, that sat on the desk. "I noticed."

"Leave me alone."

"Nope." Sideswipe pushed himself out of the chair and unsteadily crossed the small room to sit on the berth. Sunstreaker had not so much as looked up at him. "Missed ya at the party."

"I can't do parties, Sides, you know that." This was an odd tone of voice to hear from the usually growly warrior. "I...I can't...I can't do this..."

"Do what?"

"Can't function, Sides. Not normal. Can't..."

And that's when the red mech groaned inwardly. Sideswipe knew what his brother was going to say, because he had heard it all before: he couldn't function as a normal Cybertronian because being around others scared him, and when he was scared he hurt things, and when he hurt things, bad things happened to him, it never got any better, he just wanted all the hurts from his past and present and future to end, why couldn't it just end?

If Sunstreaker was particularly drunk, as he was now, the next bit went something like: why couldn't he just end it himself, why did he have to be so afraid of everything, he wanted it to end but he couldn't do it because they had promised each other they would always be together, because he had promised Sideswipe he would never try to extinguish his own spark ever again, why was everything conspiring against him to make him suffer?

It dragged Sideswipe down, too, to hear and feel his brother thinking such thoughts. "Stop talking like that, Sunny. You're drunk."

The gold mech finally looked up at him. "It's the fragging truth and you know it!" he snarled.

Primus, he hated dealing with this. Especially since he was still mostly overcharged, or only partly sober, whatever the case was. That made it all a hundred times more difficult to sit through. "I think the world's had plenty of chances to off you, Sunny, and it hasn't done so yet. Quit your whinin'."

"Then why doesn't it _stop_?" The final word was accompanied with a wave of pain and sorrow that rippled through their bond.

"Knock it off." Sideswipe lay a hand on his brother's head, pulling the gold mech towards him until they touched foreheads. "Hey, I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You left me in Kolkular that one time."

"I...what?" Sideswipe lifted his head slightly, breaking their physical contact as he tried to figure out what his brother was talking about. "Sunny, that was _vorns_ ago. We were younglings. Kolkular's a big place. How many times to I have to apologize for that?"

"Don't leave me again."

"I'm not going to." The red mech once more rested his forehead against his twin's, draping his arms over Sunstreaker's shoulders in a loose embrace. "Nothing's going to take us apart, ever. We'll be okay, you'll see." He absentmindedly raised his hand to brush the back of his fingers along the string of glyphs on his brother's face. Sunstreaker had said such things once. How many times would Sideswipe have to say these things before his brother would believe it again?

Slowly, a golden-clawed hand reached up to grip Sideswipe's arm in a weak imitation of his embrace. "We're never going to be okay, Sides."

"We can try."

Sunstreaker closed his optics, his face melancholy. _'But we_ have _tried,'_ he seemed to be saying.

With a soft sigh, Sideswipe released his twin, stretching his arm out to grab a couple cubes off the desk. He had a feeling he was in for another long, trying round of 'spend all night dealing with drunk-and-depressed Sunstreaker'. He handed a cube to his brother, who accepted it wordlessly and popped a corner open. "Might as well finish these since you went through all the trouble of dragging them out." _'Might as well stay overcharged so maybe I won't remember this tomorrow.'_


	21. Words

Prompt: Different sides 

* * *

He wanted to work on the Jhias file, he really did, but there was one thing he had to find out first. If he didn't, the unknowing would distract him while he worked, and him plus distractions didn't exactly equal productivity. So he squared his shoulders-partially to put himself into a more aggressive stance, partially to remind himself yet again of the wonderful feeling of having working boosters once more-opened the door, and strode into the room.

"What did you tell Wheeljack?" That came out much more cross-sounding than he had intended. Then again, this wasn't a subject he dealt with lightly, so perhaps a more stern tone would get his point across more quickly.

Optimus glanced up from the console he had been examining. "You do realize you're in the officers' lounge, don't you?" he asked.

Sideswipe gave a snort through his vents. "You do realize who you're talking to, don't you?"

The Autobot commander was far more gracious than Xeon had been when it came to insubordinate behavior. As in, Optimus wouldn't put a shock collar around Sideswipe's neck for that statement. "There are other, and more proper, ways of getting my attention."

"But they aren't _my_ way. Now what'd you tell him?"

"I told him you would be the most likely mech on the base who could help him decipher his file," Optimus said evenly.

The gladiator blinked in surprise at the Prime's calm words. "That's all?"

"That is all."

Optimus was not one to lie, but Sideswipe was still unnerved that Optimus had given even that vague hint of the gladiator's past to an outsider. That discomfort was exactly what he wanted to get across to the Prime now. Growling, however, was not the way to do that. Sideswipe silenced himself, though he still scowled.

"You'd rather me not send mechs your way when they need things translated in the future?" Optimus ventured.

"I'd rather no one know about my life before Kaon," the former gladiator said in a low voice. Then he added, "I have a reputation to uphold."

"I know. I did not tell Wheeljack what you did for a living."

"He'll figure it out." As much as he loved to pick on Wheeljack, Sideswipe wasn't so foolish as to think that the engineer wouldn't be able to come to the correct conclusions on his own. "I don't trust him to keep secrets."

Realizing Sideswipe was not through with his griping, Optimus shifted his massive form in his chair and thoughtfully steepled his fingers. He shuttered his optics for a moment before saying, "Close the door, Sideswipe."

The gladiator took another step further into the room, and the door, sensing the movement, slid shut with a soft hiss.

The Prime was silent, causing Sideswipe to shift nervously. He hated silence, especially when it was coming from mechs like Optimus. Silence meant they were thinking, and a lifetime in Kaon had taught him that being alone with a higher-ranking mech who was thinking in silence never ended well. "We're at war," Optimus said at last, his tone much more somber than it had been before. "We are outnumbered and outgunned by the Decepticons. If one of my soldiers has a skill that can give us any sort of an edge, whether that is skill in battle or skill in linguistics, I will put it to use."

Sideswipe surprised himself with what he blurted out next. "Please don't." He half-hoped Optimus hadn't heard that unintended display of weakness, but that hope was dashed when he saw the Prime raise a brow ridge in questioning. Well, now he had to say _something_. His gaze dropped to the floor, where it focused on nothing in particular, pondering how to proceed without baring his spark to Optimus. The last thing he needed was to make himself vulnerable to a superior. "I just would really like to keep my past quiet."

"You really prefer others to see you as merely a killer?"

"It's easier that way."

"Is it?"

"Nobody likes a smart mech who chooses to be a murderer," Sideswipe said softly, grimacing. "I don't want to deal with that stigma." _'I don't want to deal with being hated any more than I already am. I don't want that hatred to extend to my brother. I just don't want to think about how much I loved-still love-language...and what could have been...how much more_ normal _things could have been...'_

"Sideswipe, that file could very well lead to a major Autobot advantage," Optimus said.

"I know."

"You are the only trained translator on this base."

Sideswipe felt himself flinch involuntarily. "And that's what I don't want anyone to find out. I'm here to fight, not to sit at a terminal and decode messages."

"I wouldn't make you do that. I'm sure Ratchet doesn't want to deal with the aftermath of you and Red Alert being stuck in the same room for any length of time."

The gladiator purposely cringed this time. "My point exactly. Besides," he said, in a more serious tone, "I haven't touched translating since I was young." _'Okay, that's not_ entirely _true...'_

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Certainly better than what Wheeljack could come up with." Optimus smiled slyly."You have his file, correct?"

The red warrior tapped the armor on his torso that covered one of his larger holds, silently indicating he was in possession of the datapad.

The Prime nodded once. "Good. We would both appreciate it if you would not procrastinate in your work."

"Why would you think I'd do that?" Sideswipe said, only halfway paying attention to what he was saying.

Optimus idly pressed some buttons on the display in front of him. "Prowl has had quite a few things to say regarding this tendency of yours."

Sideswipe could only come up with a very eloquent, "Hmph."

The Prime was looking up at him again. "Are we through then?"

"I suppose."

"Good. Dismissed."

Feeling oddly defeated and elated at the same time, Sideswipe turned around and reached for the door's control panel. Then he paused. "If you ever need something...translated...just contact me directly, okay?"

"Of course." He could hear a smile in Optimus's voice.

Truth be told, Sideswipe was smiling, too.


	22. A Day in Ironhide's Life

Author's Note: Drabble.

* * *

Prompt: Sticky situations 

* * *

Unwritten Rule: Autobots should scan vehicles that won't stand out among normal machinery.

Twins: Never follow rules.

Ironhide: Was volunteered to retrieve them when they arrived. He grumbled.

Groundfall: As Ironhide and company approached Las Vegas, he wondered if gladiators would still obey him.

Inevitable: Twins choosing alt modes that turned heads.

Obedience: Of course not.

2 AM: Ironhide, NEST soldiers, and probably half the Nevada state troopers engaging in a high-speed chase with two Lamborghinis down the desert highways. Lamborghinis were winning.

End Result: Decepticon pack noticing the commotion. Lennox having to cover NEST's ass, again, when Galloway arrived.


	23. Arrival

Prompt: Sticky situations (alternate version)

* * *

Summer was good for two reasons: being able to sleep late, and being able to spend time with the Autobots. Summer was also bad because those two things tended to overlap at the worst times, and one or the other would have to lose out.

Jolted awake by the sound-no, the feeling-of big, heavy footsteps and revving engines, Sam was just able to catch himself before falling out of his bed. He groaned, head falling back into his pillow. "It's midnight, guys." He swung his legs over the side of his bed and staggered for the door...only he went the wrong way. _'You'd think after a month, I'd remember where things are around here.'_ Turning in the correct direction, he was finally able to exit his temporary bedroom in NEST's desert base (which totally didn't really exist) and make his way to the main hangar.

For a few moments, he just stood in the human-sized doorway and watched the Autobots and a handful of human NEST members bustle about. "You people have got to learn to soundproof this place," he called out to nobody in particular. "Middle of the night. _Middle of the night._ In the summer."

"Hey, you're not the only one." Epps walked by, all geared up but looking every bit as tired as Sam felt.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

Epps paused. "Red's picked up a couple of signals outside of Las Vegas."

"More Autobots?"

"More likely than not. 'Hide's already on their trail. Optimus and 'Bee are going to check it out. Me, too, I guess. Seeing as they woke me with their racket."

"Hey, they woke me up too. I'm coming!" Sam had never gotten the opportunity to meet Autobot newcomers outside of NEST. Well, not ever since the whole Mission City incident. He had been on a family vacation when Bluestreak came down in Nevada. He hadn't even known Red Alert, Mirage, and Hound had arrived in Oregon; Optimus and Ratchet had just taken off and returned with the new arrivals a couple days later.

He was not going to miss the opportunity this time.

"It may not be a good idea." Bumblebee was looming over them. His voice was still scratchy, but at least he didn't have to revert to the radio any more.

"Come on, 'Bee!" Sam pleaded.

"There could be Decepticons waiting. These two could _be_ Decepticons."

"After Megatron, how scary can any Decepticon be?" Sam joked weakly. Bumblebee's face twitched in a way that Sam took to be displeasure. "Too soon?"

"A bit."

"Aw, let the kid come along," Epps interjected. "It's not like he'd be traveling with Autobots and a bunch of NEST soldiers or anything."

Bumblebee made a sound that was remarkably similar to a sigh. "Okay. Fine," he said slowly. His voice crackled like static. "Don't tell anyone. I'll carry you, and when we get there, you stay hidden."

"Yes!" Sam struck a victory pose.

"For everyone's sake, put some pants on first," Epps said before continuing on his way.

Sam stopped in the middle of his dance and glanced down. Yup, just boxers. He cringed. "Five minutes!"

* * *

There was nothing more boring than driving to Vegas in the dark. Sam slumped back in the driver's seat, focusing on the tail lights of the NEST vehicles in front of them to force himself to stay awake. It wasn't working too well. "So who's it this time?" he asked Bumblebee at length.

"Don't know. They aren't saying."

"Fun."

"You could have stayed at the base," the mech commented.

"That was a serious 'fun', not as sarcastic 'fun'."

"Can't tell with the way you're mumbling."

"You're a cheery one today."

A sudden roar of engines blasted past them in the oncoming lanes. Sam jerked up in his seat, face pressed against the window. "What was that?"

"That was them!" Bumblebee said.

"Where're they going?" Sam twisted around in his seat, trying to see. Then Ironhide sped by, chasing after the newcomers. Sam was thrown out of his seat as Bumblebee suddenly spun around to follow. "Jesus, Bee!"

"Sorry."

He pulled himself upright, grabbing onto the dashboard.

"Stay down. You're not supposed to be here, remember?"

With a sigh, Sam slouched back down until he could just see over the dash. Not that there was much to see, just the darkness, and...flashing lights... "Great," he moaned. "The police?"

"State troopers," Bumblebee corrected.

"This usually happen when new guys arrive?"

"No. You got lucky this time."

* * *

So lucky that they chased the two newcomers for hours down Nevada's highways. It became clear rather quickly that the new arrivals were having fun with this game, and always kept just out of reach. Not even Bumblebee could catch up to them.

"Lamborghinis," the mech had grumbled. Which was more polite than what Ironhide was saying.

And then the Decepticons had noticed.

Getting the state troopers to leave had been tough. Finding a safe place for Sam to hide while Bumblebee joined the fray had been even tougher. It was flat here, and cowering behind a big boulder didn't make him feel safe in the slightest.

But the Decepticons had soon realized they were outnumbered in this fight, and left without too much trouble. Which left Lennox to talk to someone on the phone-Sam could only guess who, but the soldier didn't sound happy-while the rest of the NEST soldiers kept a large perimeter to keep out any prying eyes, though who would be snooping around the desert at two in the morning was beyond Sam. The three Autobots got to deal with the newcomers, who had finally been contained (or allowed themselves to be contained, Sam wagered) within the NEST perimeter.

"Stay back here," Bumblebee told Sam, after making sure he was unharmed, before joining Ironhide and Optimus.

Then, Ironhide spoke, displeasure heavy in his voice. "You two."

Sam carefully peeked around the boulder. It was difficult to make out the robots' forms against the nighttime blackness, but he could see the flash of Ironhide's eyes, and the glint of Bumblebee's brightly-colored armor. In front of them were the two newcomers, their backs to Sam's hiding spot as they faced Optimus.

He really hoped they were Autobots. They were huge-not as big as Optimus, but certainly bigger than any of the other Autobots-and their armor was heavy and spiny, reminding him far too much of Megatron. He had not expected anything like that to come from Lamborghini alt modes.

They spoke to the other robots in Cybertronian, as if they didn't know English. Ironhide replied in kind.

And suddenly, one of the newcomers was aiming a quite large and most definitely active weapon at Sam.

"Whoa, whoa! Don't shoot!" Sam cringed behind the boulder.

He could hear Ironhide's cannons start up. "Stand _down_, soldier!" the mech was shouting.

The Nest soldiers had suddenly turned their weaponry around to face the newcomers. Even Bee was shouting, with some frantically spliced-together soundbytes.

"You said nothing about bringing your pet insect," said a new voice, one that was more of a snarl than actual speech.

"Sunstreaker!" Optimus snapped.

"Lower your weapons or I will do it for you!" Ironhide said.

Sam would remember this night as the first of many times he would unintentionally get on Sunstreaker's rather large bad side.


	24. Of Spiders and Jelly

Prompt: Unexpected phobias 

* * *

A high-pitched yelp echoed through the halls of the NEST compound. Sideswipe smirked, settling into the hangar's robot equivalent of a lounging chair. _'Right on time.'_ He returned his attention to the human electronic game he had installed on his datapad, totally legally, of course.

Ratchet, who was fiddling with his diagnostics equipment, glanced up at the red-armored warrior, arching an optic ridge. "Dare I ask?"

"What makes you think I had anything to do with that?" Sideswipe kept his attention on his game, scowling slightly at his continued bad luck. _'Seriously? Escaped again? Little fragger, I'll show you who's boss around here.'_

The medic huffed and returned to his work. All was silent for several minutes, save for the very soft bleeping and clicking coming from Sideswipe's data pad. _'Damn humans. Why must they make games that are so dumb and yet so addictive?_' He was about to say to hell with it, he'd just hack the thing, when the light sound of human footsteps could be heard from down the hall. A few moments later, the owner of those footsteps had stationed herself directly in front of Sideswipe.

"You."

Sideswipe looked down at the human over the top of his datapad. "Yes?"

This human had been a recent arrival to the base, though the rest of the Autobots and the NEST soldiers seemed quite familiar with her. Sideswipe was still unsure what to make of her, and that Mikaela was currently glaring lasers up at him was not improving his initial impression of her. Her dark hair was quite wild and frizzy, even by human standards, and she hadn't even bothered changing out of her pajamas. The resulting image was more amusing to Sideswipe than any degree of threatening.

Their staring contest continued for a few moments. "What?" Sideswipe said at last.

The female was obviously not entirely awake yet, as evidenced by her unusually slow reaction to the mech's question. "I hate you. I come out here to visit _friends_ and you can't let me have peace for just one day."

"Welcome to my world," Ratchet muttered.

Sideswipe grinned. "Hey, you were warned not to pass out drunk."

Mikaela scowled. "Hate you," she repeated in a low voice. Then she turned and stalked back down the small human hallway.

Ratchet once again leveled a suspicious gaze at Sideswipe. "What did you do?"

The red twin shrugged.

The medic's glare didn't waver. "Sideswipe."

"Did you know that humans have the most ridiculous fears? I mean, it's not like she'll ever come in contact with one of those things, and yet all you have to do is say 'sea spider' and she's cowering like a sparkling." Sideswipe had set down his datapad to put his hands together and wriggle his fingers, imitating one of said invertebrates. "I wanted to see what happened if she woke up to a hologram of one hovering above her." Sideswipe grinned innocently at the CMO.

It was never a good thing when Ratchet was silent after a confession like that. "You," the medic said slowly, "are an idiot." Then he returned to adjusting his diagnostics equipment. 

* * *

Sunstreaker looked down at the bottom of the nearby wall. A tapping sound was coming from within, and it was getting closer. Silently, he flexed his claws, waiting. He watched as the large cover for the air duct wiggled, then popped loose. Shortly after, Mikaela squeezed herself out of the duct, set some sort of food canister on the floor, and dusted herself off.

The humans' air circulation system designs were horrible, but the mech had to admit that sometimes, they could be useful.

Mikaela noticed him then. "Damn it," he whispered to herself.

"Thought you humans were asleep at this hour," Sunstreaker said.

"Shh!" the human hissed up at him. He bristled slightly at the command. "I was trying to reach Sideswipe's place."

"What for?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice as quiet as he could. Humans had a different definition of 'quiet' than most Cybertronians.

"It's personal." She backed into the air duct once more.

Had such words come from another Cybertronian, Sunstreaker would have instantly been alarmed. But from a dust-covered human crawling through the air ducts in the early morning hours while holding what he could only assume was a can of breakfast stuffs? He snorted. "Have fun with that." 

* * *

Sideswipe was, as usual, the last Cybertronian to arrive for training. Ratchet had made it clear in past conversations that the warrior had exhibited this particular annoying habit even back on their home planet. So Lennox had just come to accept it. Surely there would be no way for him, a mere human, to discipline a giant alien robot for his tardiness when not even his own commanding officers could find a way to get him to behave.

No one was prepared for the ear-piercing screech that came from within the hangar. This was swiftly followed by Sideswipe bolting from the building in his bipedal mode, flailing and scrabbling at his armor as if he was trying to rid his body of robotic fleas.

"Get it out get it out get it out!" This was followed by a long string of Cybertronian that Will couldn't even begin to understand, and probably wouldn't want to. Ironhide and Ratchet glanced at one another, confused. The NEST soldiers likewise shifted around, unsure of what to do. Sunstreaker was the only one to act, leaping to his brother's aid.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lennox saw Mikaela and Sam exiting the NEST building. Mikaela had that tight-lipped of-course-this-isn't-a-smile smile on her face; Sam was much more blatant with his amusement.

"Sorry to add one to your schedule, Ratchet," Mikaela called up to the giant robot.

"What now?" Will asked the two.

"Just a strategically-placed can of cranberry sauce," the young woman stated, flippantly brushing her dark hair back over her shoulder. "He was warned not to sleep in his car mode."


	25. TMI

Prompt: Surprises 

* * *

If there was one thing Will had learned in the short time the two new Autobots had been here, it was that something was very, very different about them. Probably not the good kind of 'different'.

He had also learned that a sulking Sunstreaker was a Sunstreaker you wanted to avoid for the next several days. It was an ominous sulking, like the quiet before the storm, the sort of storm you did not want to be the one to trigger.

A sulking Sunstreaker was not a Sunstreaker who sat at the makeshift Cybertronian-sized table in the hangar with a single cube of their precious stock of Cybertronian-style alcohol in his hand, a somewhat distraught look on his face. Like he wanted so badly to be drunk off his ass but knew he'd want to save some of his drink for later.

"Sunstreaker," Ironhide said firmly as he and the NEST soldiers walked past. "Training. Come on."

English always sounded a bit strange coming from robot mouths. Sunstreaker's voice was not as low as Ironhide's, but it hovered on that thin line between 'seductive purr' and 'warning growl,' and Will was never quite sure which way he was supposed to interpret it. "I'll be there when I can."

Yet another thing he had learned was that Sunstreaker never missed an opportunity to beat something up, even in training. Something definitely wasn't right.

"Now," Ironhide demanded.

Sunstreaker's glowing eyes flicked to Ironhide, and there was a brief silence. Will knew that to be the two of them communicating telepathically-Ratchet insisted it was not telepathy, but Will had yet to hear any convincing evidence otherwise. Then Ironhide made a disgusted sound, and continued on his way out of the hangar. He muttered something in Cybertronian, which Will had heard often enough that, through context, he had decided meant something along the lines of "Fuck this, I'm out of here."

"What?" the soldier asked, feeling very small and ignored in the presence of the two Cybertronians.

And then he heard it-a thin, high keening that echoed faintly through the compound. It was the oddest sound he had ever heard.

At the same time, Sunstreaker shuddered, his armor plates softly brushing lightly against one another. Perhaps not 'shudder', but rather, shiver. Not exactly an unpleasant action. Then the warrior moaned and rested his chin on the table, sharply-clawed hands covering his face.

This was definitely not something he had seen from Sunstreaker before.

He almost didn't hear what Sunstreaker said next. "My brother is a whore."

"Wait...what?" This was the first time Will had ever heard an Autobot speak of something sexual in reference to their own kind, and his first thought was that something had gotten mistranslated. It wouldn't have been the first time an unfortunate mistranslation had occurred.

But then he remembered that keening noise, and Sideswipe's conspicuous absence...

The implications of that hit him like a brick wall. And he wasn't so sure he liked the idea. "Was that...?"

Sunstreaker shot up then, snarling in rage, still clasping his head, as if trying to squeeze out some demon that had taken root within his mind. "My brother is a [expletive!] _whore_!" Nobody had successfully translated that particular favorite word of Sunstreaker's yet. That was probably a good thing.

"Nobody's arguing with you there," Red Alert said softly, with a bit of a sneer, as he walked past, following Ironhide.

The gold warrior stormed out of the hangar, nearly pushing aside Ironhide as he walked past the older Autobot.

Will was still frozen where he was, trying to wrap his mind around how a machine could possibly be a whore. And why this had kept Sunstreaker from training.

By the time he finally made it outside, with a bit of coaxing from Bluestreak (God help him, the little guy wanted to say something but Ratchet kept shutting him up), Sunstreaker had taken out his aggravation on a small motorcade's worth of Humvees, and there was an M1 Abrams, on fire, flying through the air in a most un-tank-like fashion.


	26. Stormy

Prompts: Thunderstorms; Who do they respect and why? 

* * *

The one good thing about this planet was that there were Cons to fight. Everything else? Could very well slag off, thank you.

Sunstreaker bristled every time he thought of it. Which was almost all the time. There may be Decepticons here, but there weren't nearly enough for him to work off the stress that was slowly but surely building within him. His own faction-mates seemed to have become twenty times more obnoxious since he had last seen them on the _Ark_, so help him one of these days he was going to thrash Bluestreak and throw Red Alert across the base. And after breaking some of the humans' military toys during training...well, that mess was not helping the situation.

He went out on every mission he could. Every mission. Nobody stopped him. Those NEST fools had learned the hard way not to deny him this. With or without his brother, whatever country the 'Cons decided to show up in, no matter what the circumstances.

But this very world and its inhabitants grated on him. Primus damn it all, he was _homesick_. It made him want to punch someone until there was nothing left to punch.

They were in some Pits-damned jungle this time. The Decepticons may have forced them into this fight, but the Autobots and their humans dragged it on long enough that the thunderstorm was able to reach them. Cybertronians weren't fond of water on a good day, and nobody, human or Cybertronian, was fond of being struck by lightning. Especially Seekers. Once those things had been driven off by the storm, the battle suddenly became much easier.

Which was good, considering Sunstreaker had no idea where he was or where the other Autobots were, and Ratchet had thought it would be a good idea to get himself struck by lightning.

And the _mud_...

He had been sometimes carrying, sometimes dragging the unconscious medic through the jungle for several miles now. The storm was only getting worse, and the grime of this world was only working its way deeper under his armor.

_'Disgusting.'_ His dermal plating prickled at the sensation.

He set Ratchet down once more as he tried to shake the mud from his foot. This would be so much easier if there were a decent road in this area, and if the mud wasn't already seeping into his delicate inner workings, and if Ratchet was still in a position to transform. A Lamborghini towing a vehicle many times its size might raise a few eyebrows, but at least they'd be out of this muck.

_'Not my fragging fault there's no decent-looking vehicles big enough for my frame. Optimus should have let us keep our Cybertronian alts.'_ He pulled some sort of plant out of his foot and flung it away with no small amount of force. _'Allspark's fragging_ gone_, why does Optimus insist on staying here?'_

Ratchet came to then with a slight jerk. He looked around silently, then turned his gaze up to Sunstreaker. "What happened?"

"Lightning happened," the gladiator replied.

The medic scowled, then pushed himself into a sitting position. "Where are the 'Cons?"

Sunstreaker snorted lightly. "Half your body's toast and you're more worried about the 'Cons."

"I'd like to preserve the half of me that isn't toast. Help me up."

The warrior just looked down at him.

Ratchet made a disapproving noise. "Right, forgot who I was talking to."

Thunder rumbled loudly overhead, seeming to spur on the torrential rain. Sunstreaker growled to himself as he reached down to the medic. "Guess you've pulled me off the battlefield enough times for me to return the favor."

The CMO had that look on his face that he got whenever he was about to slug someone for mouthing off to him. But with one arm dangling uselessly and the other one currently holding onto Sunstreaker for support, he was unable to follow through with the threat. "You're slagging right it's about time you returned the favor. You're more work than the rest of the army combined!"

"Just making sure you can justify your existence among our ranks," Sunstreaker said flatly. That did earn him a kick to the shin, which made Ratchet lose his balance, which made the warrior slip in the mud, and both of them ended up on the wet ground. "_Frag it!_" Sunstreaker quickly pushed himself back to his feet, trying to wipe the mud from his body.

Ratchet was calmly sitting on the ground. "You know, the first time I dragged _you_ off the battlefield, you tried to kill me."

"No, I don't know. I don't remember that." He was mostly ignoring Ratchet, desperate as he was to get himself clean.

"And then Sideswipe thought it'd be fun to take a crack at me too."

"Now that, I remember." _Dirty. Dirty dirt everywhere. Scratches. Armor dirty. Must clean!_

Ratchet just watched him for a while. "Yeah, I think this'll make up for that."

Sunstreaker glared down at him. He could feel his primal programming, right there, just beneath the veneer... "Look, _Ratchet_, if it weren't for me and Sideswipe, you Autobots would have been annihilated before the war even got going."

The CMO huffed. "Gross overstatement of your contributions, but do continue."

Something almost tangibly snapped in his processor. The warrior had his claws around the CMO's neck before Ratchet could react. "I may not remember trying to kill you that time, but I _will_ remember this time."

Ratchet was oddly calm, in the infuriating way Optimus always could be sometimes. "How about you put me down?"

He found he couldn't. The rain, the mud, the storm, this war, this stupid planet, being reminded of what little control he had over his own mind...

He then opened his optics to the cold gray walls of NEST's containment cell. Alarmed, he jerked his arm, but it was firmly bound against the wall. He snarled loudly, the sound echoing down the metal hallways. _'Not again!'_

"You know, for as many times as I've done this to you, you still can't remember to watch where a medic's hand is or what he's holding." Ratchet was standing, arms folded across his chest, on the opposite side of the energy barrier that had been installed at the humans' demands. It wasn't strong enough to stop a mech of Sunstreaker's size, but it caused enough pain that one would think twice before trying to cross it.

Ratchet watched one of the NEST soldiers walk by before continuing, in Cybertronian. "NEST found us, and they weren't so happy about what you were doing. I tried to keep you out of a cell, Optimus was even willing for me to just keep you offline in the medbay for a while, but _they_ insisted."

"I was trying to fragging kill you, why wouldn't you want me in a cell?"

Ratchet gave a light shrug. "You wouldn't have killed the one mech in the galaxy capable of _and willing to_ put you back together once a week." He lowered his voice, though there was no one else around who would have understood the language. "I don't appreciate being threatened, but I didn't help the situation either."

Ratchet, yes, he was a good medic, but he also wasn't afraid to admit when he fell short. Few Autobots, few mechs period, would ever admit falling short to a _gladiator_, a criminal. That Ratchet, a former member of the Council, was one of those few always took Sunstreaker aback. "Perhaps," the warrior said after a while. "Yet here I am." He flexed his claws, straining against his restraints.

"Sorry. Their rules, not mine." The medic made an exasperated face; he too made no secret that he would just as soon be rid of this planet and its humans and their rules. "At least Optimus was able to convince them to lay off the armed guards this time." They watched the same NEST soldier as he walked back the way he had come. He didn't look at either of them, stoically keeping his gaze straight ahead. "Give it time," the CMO said. "It'll get better."

"We'll see."


	27. BANANAQUIT

Prompt: Bananaquit 

* * *

It had been the Prime's idea to go to Florida to oversee some things with NASA. Wheeljack had of course been ecstatic to tag along, saying some nonsense about space exploration and human ingenuity and stuff Sideswipe didn't really understand or care about. Sideswipe had been thrown into acting as an escort for the two mechs. As if they really needed it. Wheeljack could probably blow up half the state of Texas all by his lonesome, and Optimus was certainly no slouch when it came to defending himself. They didn't need Sideswipe to protect them, and Sideswipe didn't particularly want to be dragged across the entire slagging continent.

But Mirage and Hound were busy with something or another in Oregon, Bluestreak, Bumblebee, and Ironhide had human charges to worry about, Ratchet was fussing with Sunstreaker in the medbay (which was _totally_ not Sideswipe's fault), Red Alert was nearly impossible to budge from his computer, the Dinobots were scattered across the globe, and having Jetfire travel to Florida would be impractical and very conspicuous, what with him being a huge military aircraft and all.

Sideswipe had to wonder how a flame-painted cab, a car that wasn't even supposed to exist yet, and a metallic red Lamborghini were any less conspicuous, but they didn't like it when he asked smart questions like that. His job wasn't to be smart. It was to kill Decepticons.

And so it was that, after his usual bout of whining and heel-dragging and getting snarled at by a very annoyed brother (who was already annoyed at being stuck in the medbay) and being snarled at by a very annoyed Ratchet (who was annoyed at Sunstreaker's annoyance at being in the medbay), Sideswipe found himself idling in Florida. He had finally irritated both Wheeljack and Optimus enough that they had told him, in pointedly polite terms, to leave them alone for the day. He ended up heading south until he got tired of aimless wandering, at which point he found a suitably quiet spot to plunk himself down and pout.

He was bored.

He sat in the lot of the small park, moodily looking at the various trees in front of him. He had tried contacting Sunstreaker earlier, only to find his brother offline and therefore utterly unable to reply. Aggravated at his bad luck, he had resorted to connecting to a communications satellite and idly hacking at human networks (they had, admittedly, been getting better at security in recent years), until the Pentagon figured out it was him who was messing with their stuff, again, and notified Red Alert, who promptly bounced a loaded signal off the satellite Sideswipe was using, into the warrior's comm unit. The unexpected string of programming caused Sideswipe's processor to briefly flare with a surge of power, and the Lamborghini shook with pain.

Had this been any other day, Sideswipe would have retaliated. He was no stranger to such 'satellite wars' with Red, but today he didn't feel like putting up a fight. As soon as his processor was clear of enough pain to be functional, he disconnected from the satellite.

Primus, he was bored. Bored and grumpy. Had he not been in such a foul mood, he would have wandered further south to check out Miami. He enjoyed big cities, and it wasn't like he got to Florida all that often. Or ever. But he was on a mission, as much as he hated it, and he was already further away from Optimus than he should have been.

Looking at trees was boring, but now he couldn't leave to find something more interesting. More humans had arrived, and a driverless Lamborghini suddenly taking off would have caused a stir. As much as Sideswipe liked to scare the humans, he was in no mood to deal with getting in trouble today. With an inward sigh, he resigned himself to a more mundane form of entertainment. He activated his holoform.

Anyone who might have been looking in his direction at that moment would have seen a red Somali cat emerge from underneath the sports car at a brisk trot, as if the pavement beneath its paws was too rough and the grass and dirt twenty feet away would feel so much better.

Now dead to most sensations coming from his vehicular mode, Sideswipe's perception of the world came from the small creature he had taken as his holoform. He had originally asked for a larger form of the animal to use as a holoform, which had lead to Optimus and Hound giving him and Sunstreaker a particularly heated lecture on why cougars were not conducive to good relations with humans. Sideswipe still wanted his cougar holoform, but he was faced with either conceding to the Autobot leader or having his his holoform generator removed altogether by Ratchet.

He was very thankful the likes of Gears and Huffer hadn't arrived on Earth yet. The humans were bad enough when they found out the Twins had chosen small Idomesticated/I felines to use as a holoform. There was also the issue of the indignity of the humans picking up their cat holoforms and cuddling them, but it was a habit they were being trained out of, thanks a certain gold Lamborghini. Sam had, many years ago, made the mistake of stroking the mech's small, fuzzy holoform on the head like any human would with any pet cat. The result was Sunstreaker-the-Abyssinian using the poor human as a scratching post, followed by Sunstreaker-the-mech brandishing all his weapons, sending Sam running for Bumblebee.

The Somali paused in the grass, his face scrunching up into a passable semblance of a frown as he remembered that particular incident. How did the other Autobots stand it, having their canine holoforms coddled and fawned over by humans? Maybe Mirage had been the wise one by instead choosing a hawk, a creature that humans didn't expect to be able to touch.

Oh well. It was too late now. Maybe if he felt like going through the hassle of loading new holoform data into his system again, he'd choose something humans wouldn't want to hug on sight. Like a cougar.

The red cat jumped up onto a wooden fence with practiced ease. He could feel the rough wood beneath his feet, solid and reassuring that he would be able to balance on the thin slat. He quickly scanned the area, turning his head from one side, where some human families were enjoying a picnic at a table in the shade, to the other, where his car mode waited. Nobody was near it. It was safe to wander for a bit.

He sauntered along the fence, then jumped down into the grass on the other side, quickly skirting around the humans to a more dense stand of trees. He bounded to them, setting his claws into the bark and pulling himself up, high off the ground and into the branches, where he sat for a while, observing what he could from this new viewpoint.

It wasn't any more interesting than the view from his car mode, just from a different angle. Earth sure was disappointing sometimes.

A high-pitched chirping came from somewhere nearby. He swiveled his ears, pinpointing the sound. A bird in the next tree over. He allowed himself a feline grin. Finally, something to stave off his boredom!

Crouching on his own branch, claws partially unsheathed, he inched forward, silent, ears turned forward, whiskers bristling. Slowly, slowly, must be sneaky... Good, the bird was oblivious. Stupid thing. It was gray and yellow and surprisingly small for how much noise it made, which was a trait Sideswipe was beginning to associate with Earth animals. Sideswipe-the-cat had chased and caught plenty of birds before, but usually they were larger and of the pigeon variety. This one would be perfect for a little precision training in his holoform.

The bird was still cheeping away happily. The cat stopped just behind a cluster of leaves, minutely shifting his weight and stance, calculating the amount of force he would need to exert to get himself from this branch to that one, and deciding on the best angle for his attack. Such planning was not something that came easily to Sideswipe. The cat's eyes went wide, pupils dilating in anticipation, but still he waited. He would have to jump a fair ways to reach the bird, and the flexibility of the branch he was on right now might throw him off when he made his move. It all had to be taken into consideration when doing things like this.

He launched himself from the branch.

The bird took flight. Too late. Claw caught feather, the bird was in his paws...and they were falling. It occurred to him then that he had been thirty feet up in the tree, and there was nothing between him and the ground now.

He tossed the bird away just in time to see the ground rushing up at him. Grass and dirt and _'oh, are those rocks?'_ He reached his paws downwards, toes spread. Cats could fall a long way without hurting themselves, right?

Then again, he wasn't really a cat.

He met the earth with far more force than he would have liked. _Whap!_ went the cat as he hit the ground. _Snap!_ went something in the frame of his car mode, in a superb example of a sympathetic injury.

The cat stumbled to his feet, disoriented as his bond to the Lamborghini reeled with pain. _'Frag...frag...'_

A human was picking the cat up, crooning with concern. The cat hissed, lashing out with his claws. The human appropriately dropped the creature, who ran as fast as he could back to the red sports car, diving beneath it to hide in the shadows.

Sideswipe flicked off the holoform as quickly as he could, cursing at himself the whole while. _Pain, pain, pain, pain..._ He managed to wait until the humans turned back to their picnic, convinced they wouldn't find the cat again, before starting his engine and peeling away from the area as quickly as he could.

He caught up with Optimus and Wheeljack later in the evening, by which time he had probably made his injury a hundred times worse due to the speeds at which he had been flying along the roads. It sure _felt_ like he had made it worse, at any rate. Sideswipe limped into the massive hangar the Autobots had been allowed temporary use of, only able to mumble a greeting to Optimus. Then Wheeljack noticed the energon that slowly dripped from the Lamborghini's undercarriage and immediately launched into a tirade about how the red mech couldn't keep himself in one piece for a _single day_, and how they had no medic with them, what did he except them to do?

Sideswipe didn't really expect them to do anything except shut up and let him sulk in peace.

Optimus was up next; he started on what promised to be a long talk about not trailing energon up and down the East Coast, thank you very much. Then Wheeljack grumbled something about about Sideswipe being an idiot on purpose, and how in Primus's name the red twin had even been able to hurt himself in Florida to begin with?

Sideswipe could only reply, much to the other Autobots' confusion, "I couldn't resist the bananaquit."


	28. Karma

Prompt: Karma

* * *

Xeon had long had suspicions of what had become of his twin gladiators after Kaon had been claimed by the Decepticons. He was smugly pleased to learn he had been right. He knew those two well.

Though he was, admittedly, surprised to find them standing next to the Prime himself, playing bodyguard to him. Anyone who knew of the war, which was everyone, knew that Optimus did not need bodyguards to protect himself. No, here, on this remote planet, the Prime was making a very clear statement to any Cybertronians who heeded his call: he ruled _all_ Cybertronians, and he was not afraid to meet those who dissented violently with the same violence.

That Optimus had learned a few tricks from Megatron during the war did not matter to Xeon. He had operated his schools before and during the Prime's rule, and he would do so long after, even if he no longer had a Lord High Protector to keep the Prime off his back.

Perhaps, though, he could get the Prime's bodyguards back under his sway. That would be nearly as good as a Lord High Protector's word.

The few native creatures that saw him as he tracked the Twins across the city that night paid him little heed. He slipped quietly through their streets, past their human-sized buildings (some of which were surprisingly large indeed), into the newer section of the city, one with properly Cybertronian constructions. It was a fair enough substitute for their home world, he thought. He could work with this.

His first problem, he realized, was that he found Sunstreaker, not his brother, many stories up in one of the Cybertronian buildings. Sideswipe would have been almost too easy to get back into his grasp. Sunstreaker would take a bit more effort.

The gold mech had a slightly different appearance from when Xeon had last seen him, and unfortunate side effect of assuming an altmode the natives wouldn't balk at. But Sunstreaker himself was no different. His spark had not changed that much.

"Imagine finding you here," Xeon said softly in Cybertronian as he neared the gladiator.

Sunstreaker only stared for a moment, blue optics shining brightly in the dim light. "You."

"Come with me." He was using a tone of voice he carefully trained all his gladiators to obey, even if they objected. Subconscious control of a gladiator's mind was a nice little trick, and one that was invaluable to a school master.

His words had the immediate effect on Sunstreaker that he had planned. The mech took an involuntary step toward him. But then he hesitated.

Xeon narrowed his optics slightly. Perhaps he had underestimated how much effort he'd need to put into this one. "Come."

Sunstreaker didn't move this time. Instead, his face took on his famous expression of rage. "You."

This mech had always been particularly troublesome for Xeon. Sunstreaker would have died before Xeon had broken him to his will all those vorns ago, if Sideswipe and Crossblades hadn't intervened. Perhaps the gladiator needed a reminder of who owned him. Xeon clasped his hands behind his back, reaching beneath the long quills that draped from his armor. He carefully wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the energon prod he still carried hidden there.

Sunstreaker was quite familiar with that energon prod.

Xeon had no time to pull out the prod as Sunstreaker charged foward, claws bared, shining golden spines lifted aggressively. He hit Xeon with a loud _crash_ and kept going, until the school master felt his back against the window. The window shattered easily. They fell.

It was not the longest fall Xeon had ever taken, but that didn't mean hitting the street below didn't hurt. He quickly rolled from under Sunstreaker, quills flashing behind him, trailing his every move. He had his energon prod free now, and he jabbed it forward.

The prod caught Sunstreaker around his left arm, but as the mech was coming at him with his right arm, it did little to stop him. Xeon quickly disengaged and rolled away again; Sunstreaker's claws only hit Xeon's quills, passing harmlessly through them.

On his feet now, Xeon slid behind the larger mech and stabbed the energon prod into his back. Sunstreaker fell face-first to the pavement, snarling and gasping as the energy wracked his body. "You've grown lazy," Xeon commented before removing the prod. "I can fix that. Come with me."

Sunstreaker was still weak and trembling from the prod, but he managed to lash back with a foot, catching Xeon in his legs. The school master was knocked off his feet. Before he could react, his gladiator had him pinned to the ground. "How'd you get this close to Optimus?" Sunstreaker growled. "Who did you bribe?"

Xeon laughed. "That fool of a Prime's really gotten you to be his hound, doesn't he?"

"And he didn't need one of these to do it." Sunstreaker had grabbed the energon prod from his hand. He tossed it away. Not that Xeon really needed it to best anyone in a fight.

His second problem, he realized, was that he was fighting Sunstreaker, not his brother. Sideswipe, he could break. Sunstreaker, especially a Sunstreaker who had some new undeserved sense of self...

Those golden claws were prying into Xeon's chest armor. "You want to know what I promised myself, that day Kaon fell?" His face was threateningly close to Xeon's, a fury in his optics that the school master could almost feel. "That yours would be the last spark I ate."

"_Kalet._" He was using his command voice again. _Stop. Refrain. Calm._ "_Kalet!_"

His third problem, he realized-


End file.
